


A Clear and Perfect Surface

by TheWillowBends



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-10-18 16:02:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17583998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWillowBends/pseuds/TheWillowBends
Summary: Time has a reckoning for us all.  Link is beginning to understand that his own is coming.  Malon is just the woman who happened upon his life to complicate it.





	1. Of What Moonlight Speaks

**Prologue: Of What Moonlight Speaks**

          Malon’s father died late in the thick of summer when the horses were midway through foaling and the cows newly calved. He had gone in his sleep, subdued and unremarkable beyond the fact that idleness had dominated the character of Talon’s life, and Link considered in equal measures of contempt and frank appreciation that his passing had done little to deviate from that bent. The work of coming months spared grief little mind, the worst of it kept at bay by the worrisome specter of paucity in leaner months, but it managed to cast lures about upon which they stumbled and caught in unexpected moments. He kept a mindful eye on Malon (and a sharper one for Ingo) but withheld excess of concern in light of her determination and vigor, the dogged way in which she bore through the months before the fall would usher in a new set of inconvenient sorrows. It wore at her in the quieter moments, cutting a rigid line of her figure, but quietude came in mercifully spare portions. At times, she could be heard weeping in late hours but always barricaded behind closed doors and public fortitude, as if she feared it a wildfire that would ignite into conflagration around her if released. There was work to be done, and work she could do, had done all her life really, and he supposed a conceit in assuming less of her.

          Only once had Link caught her trapped in the heavy clasp of grief, crooked over a stove brimming with food she had over prepared and crying jaggedly. He had done a right duty by her, as good as he knew how, when she had turned with a wail and pressed herself against his shoulder, and he had given her his embrace and his silence, the solace he knew and could offer best. How long they had stood there, he knew not, but long enough to give Ingo pause when he entered in his usual, quarrelsome way. The moment had broken apart easily enough at its rough seams, the damage superficial if done, but even Malon’s amiable greeting and soothing redirection had done little to distract his ire. Link tolerated thinly the wary eye Ingo cast on him, returning it with steady regard, and ultimately prevailed when Ingo declared exhaustion and defeat, retiring to his room.

          He lingered long enough after Ingo had taken his leave to sweep up the dishes and see Malon off to bed, standing firm when she attempted negotiation otherwise. Far as he could witness, the demands of the season had no lenience for human weariness, and while none would submit charges of delicacy in her character, she had limitations all the same. She took his patient but implacable command with good nature and finally trudged up the stairs, only pausing long enough to admonish him to do the same. It was a fair enough request, but the moment he stepped from the doorway and saw the moon brimming with greedy fullness, he knew sleep would prove elusive and set himself to productivity elsewhere.

          His sword had known an uncommon serenity in the last few years, the blade drawn mainly for purposes of martial exercise, but he managed himself as effectively as any other weapon he carried: the edges kept sharp, guarded against the erosion of time and vigilance wrought by tranquility. He practiced now as he would always, with a keen mind to the future laden with ugly and ambiguous promise of battles left unwaged. As it was, trouble rarely strayed far from his life, and he considered it paramount to any benefit he derived from peacetime concessions to do away with the intrinsic wariness that had allowed his survival this long. He minded his eccentricities well, though, and tended to his craft away from Malon and Ingo’s general notice, where he could be spared the inevitable curiosities and concerns it seemed to inspire in others.

          Lon Lon Ranch was never truly quiet, though the general raucous of its various fauna was muted in night hours. Its position on the elevated plain and sheered rockface against which it was set spared it the worst of natural predators, while the preternatural were in considerable lesser numbers in the years since the Hyrule military had begun its cull of the monstrosities that plagued their national interchanges. When he had returned from his sojourn in the Northern Mountains, he had been introduced to a Hyrule transformed, so anomalous from the despoiled land of his recollection that he had barely recognized it. He had looked upon it and known with a kind of melancholic certainty that he would learn to carry this, too, but there were longer distances he had traveled with open wounds, and the ragged edge of memory he had come to understand was one that never stitched closed. The world would find him limping with sword drawn before it put him to ruin so readily. 

          He paused in his exertions, misliking the temper of his thoughts. Dwelling on the past served little purpose and accomplished less, and he had long disciplined himself against the practice lest it consume him. Talon’s death cast stones that made large ripples, he supposed; even as his regard for the man had been distantly neutral, it wore at the grain of him. If trouble followed certainly, then grief was ever its distant companion, always at a steady pace behind it. 

          He shook himself from stupor, sheathing his sword. These thoughts would not do. He had come to the ranch for simplicity of purpose and found himself in the ungainly position of warden of unexpected griefs. It filled him with baleful skittishness, a sort that he resented in himself knowing his place was owed here as much to Malon’s kindness as to his skill. To her, he owed semblance of constancy, even as turmoil writhed in the dark corridor of old thought. There was much to be done, he knew, and then always more, and he was uncommonly often the mediator between Malon’s harried grief and Ingo’s belligerence in the past month. 

          The last hand hired before his arrival had vanished soon after he realized that prosperity and labor were not in equal abundance - or so Malon had explained as such in their chance encounter in town months before. Her telling had inspired pity enough, and her guileless pleasure at seeing him again had done the rest of the work, he supposed. There were few in count these day with whom he would be as happily met, and a brief tenure at the ranch had seemed as good a prospect as any. Talon’s unexpected passing had proved an effective tether since, and he was not eager to place himself among Malon’s further disappointments. 

          How long he dallied there lost in thought, he could not be sure, but the sweat was cooling on his skin when the crunch of grass alerted him to company. His hand went to the hilt but stilled as he recognized Malon’s lighter step. He waited for her footsteps to quiet before turning to greet her. 

          Her smile was soft and a touch contrite as she leaned against the fencepost, but she met his gaze resolutely. 

          “Didn’t mean to startle you none.” 

          Giving her a slight nod of acknowledgment to put her at ease, he allowed the tension to bleed from his frame: intimidation would serve no purpose with her. Internally, he marshaled himself against the storm he felt gathering in her expression. 

          “Saw you out here and figured I wasn’t sleeping much anyhow, so why not try out your company?” Her face affected color at the admission before she added quietly, “Didn’t mean to impose none, either.” 

          “You are not,” he assured. 

          Malon crossed her arms, pulling her shawl tight to ward off the night chill. Summer still, he thought, but the touch of fall could be felt in these hours absent the sun; he figured her wise enough to accept the portent as is and was part of what had driven her so tenaciously through these past two months. He could see exhaustion writ in her bearing for it, perhaps more than what could be read from posture and smudged eyes, and it nettled him. 

          “You should be sleeping.” 

          “As should you.” Tilting her head, she took the measure of him bluntly. “I fair imagine you’ve done yourself worse than I have.” 

          He regarded her steadily, providing no satisfaction of excuse. 

          “I figured you’d say as much,” she teased, but her smile waned abruptly. “I dreamed of my father,” she admitted. “Felt him as real as you or I standing ‘ere, and when I woke he was gone and stayed gone.” 

          Link nodded in understanding. He knew the power of dreams 

          She rubbed her shoulders. “As I said, hadn’t reckoned to come out here, but then I saw you out here practicing your sword as you tend to, and figured it might do me some good to scold you rather than spend another night crying since it ain’t fixing nothing.” Her face abruptly shuttered, and he feared she would betray her own steadfastness on the matter, but she rallied herself a moment later, well enough that he could ignore for both of them how her eyes glistened and hands trembled. Courage was not something to deride in whatever spare portion it presented itself. 

          Easing the scabbard off his shoulder, he came to her slowly, erasing the militant from his posture best he could. He took a careful pace from her, then settled his blade against the post between them. He returned her scrutiny briefly before letting his eyes capture hers. “Sorrow does not bespeak weakness,” he assured. 

          She laughed without humor. “I’d hope not. Figure I cried enough to fill an empty well by now. Almost a blessing to have more work than hands, but I reckon it won’t matter when winter comes round. Being down a hand ain’t boding well for us either way. Most comfort I’ve had this month is listening to Ingo rail about the state of the barn after the last storm blew out the south window. Man ain’t changed a bit in the two decades I known him. Fair wonder he hasn’t beat it on out of here, I’ll give him that.” 

          Link grimaced but withheld the objection that arose at Malon charging Ingo with any merit of person. Discretion had plentiful purpose in his navigation of the world. 

          Still. 

          “He should count himself more fortunate of your mind for unruly beasts.” 

          He watched the realization steal over her features before they crinkled with humor. “That’s awful,” she cried. Her hands flew to her face to hide the smile fighting for purchase there. “That’s the meanest thing I ever heard out of you!” 

          “Would you deny it?” He could be plenty meaner if she wished. 

          “Stop that,” she chided, though her features still had the blush of gaiety. “He’s been a friend of the family since before I was born.” She sobered a little at that. “I can’t account for how he’s been feeling ‘bout all this. You’d do some good letting him be now.” 

          He gave her a long look at that, penetrating in its intent. She was too generous, he knew - and had known also the misery it would cause her. It reinforced the necessity of his vigilance in these uncertain times, even if she lacked reason to appreciate it. 

          Finally, he replied, “You do him a kindness he may not deserve, but I will hold my tongue for your sake.” 

          “I reckon kindness is better in these times than meanness.” 

          There was no gain in refuting that, and he relented with a partial shrug. He had little desire to pursue avenues of dialogue regarding Ingo’s fundamental character anyhow. A quiet moment followed, the chill of silence and night seeping in. It made his bones ache. 

          “You said you dreamed of your father,” he ventured carefully, grasping at the thread she had loosed earlier in their conversation. Any vestiges of good cheer fled from her features abruptly; he felt the pang of their loss and added gently, “I ask only in confidence.” 

          “No, it’s…” A shiver ran the length of her, and she summoned a deep breath. “It was just… strange feeling, you know? I could tend a bad dream well enough. I’ve dreamed of him sometimes since - well. And I know it’s just memories stirred up in there for the wanting, but this weren’t anything like that.” Her brow furrowed, a wariness in her tone, and her gaze slid sideways, averted. 

          Crossing his arms, he said nothing, letting his silence encourage the rest from her. It always did. 

          “I’m not the superstitious sort or nothing,” she continued after a moment, “but I’d swear it real if I didn’t know better. Didn’t even mean nothing far as I could tell, that’s the madness of it - he was just standing there in my room over me with his hand laid against my brow, near as you or I, telling me it was gonna be all right, yeah? Things would just be fine, and it’d be a comfort to think maybe it really was him, that maybe he’s checking on his girl one last time, but then he starts talking about the horses. And he’s telling me it’s time to take them in, like there’s a storm coming or something that’s making them all skittish, and saying about how you’ve got to be gentle with them in times like that or they spook, like I was a child again that didn’t know better, and I -” 

          Faltering, she turned back to him and sighed. “I guess I got caught up in the idea of it being something more for a moment. Found his old boots in the closet yesterday, and then dinner tonight, and I’s just thinking about how I’d do anything to see him again, anything at all, even if was just another morning of me hollering at him to wake up and get moving, and maybe something heard the praying in me for it, and gave me just that. But it ain’t nothing like that. I woke up and he certainly weren’t anywhere to be found. It’s just memory and wishing, and that’s foolishness to think anything more of it.” 

          Her face crumpled up like wet parchment, and he started with alarm. “Malon -” 

          “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, wiping tears away. “I’m just shaken up about it is all. I know you aren’t one for sentimentals, and you’ve been so kind about it. I just couldn’t stay in that house any more, and then I saw you down here…well, you ain’t one for tolerating nonsense, so I figured you’d put me to rights.” 

          The charge gave a glancing blow, but he took it in stride. It was in her character to be forthright, a natural inclination of days spent among companions who were dumb and intractable by his guess. He imagined it translated well enough to putting to place the men in her life, and he was no exception, but if she wanted rights, he could put her to hers. 

          “You are allowed to grieve your father’s passing. The inconvenience of the timing does not erase the weight of it. I am here by choice and to afford you what aid I can, not to dictate to you the measure of your own sorrow. You know better than I what work needs done and will surely do what is necessary.” 

          “What else is there to do?” she protested, gesturing around her. “Not like I can just lie down and let things go to shambles about me.” 

          “Plenty others would. You do yourself injustice assuming such frailty of character. In the years I have known you, you have never faltered in your duty to others.” 

          Flattery did its work; the shyest blush of a smile graced her features a moment later, her whole body slowly unspooled from its anxious coil for a moment of respite. Relaxed, the youth in her countenance revived some, bereft of the hard lines of stress and unhappiness, though he could see also a sharpness to her cheekbones and musculature that had been lacking in earlier months. 

          “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” he added gently. 

          Clasping her hands, she brought them to her chest, charmed and perhaps even a little overwhelmed. Words had that way of penetrating even the heaviest armor. He hoped he had not pierced hers unwillingly. 

          “As I said, you have been so very kind,” she whispered. Her eyes were gleaming, and something in their sincerity discomfited him enough to shift his gaze beyond her. He was not so keen to be caught similarly unguarded. 

          “If so, it is only being repaid in kind,” he eventually answered. He gestured to his sword. “You said you’ve watched me before.” 

          As always, she was kind enough to give him leave for evasive action, but there was mild reproach in her eyes. “I keep my eye on all the beasties under my ward, especially the lot that scamper about on two legs. Yours is the worst kind of mischief.” There was teasing in her tone, and it coached a vague smile from him. “Don’t think I weren’t aware of your sneaking round here after hours.” 

          “I would hope your regard for my ‘mischief’ presented you less trouble than the foals.” 

          Malon laughed richly. The sound warmed him. “None so much as Epona was as a small thing. You’re a right pair, the two of you. Swear I’d have twice the trouble without y’all around to keep the others in line.” 

          The affection swelled in him enough to warrant a full grin. “She is a wild thing at heart. I would not have her otherwise.” 

          “All beautiful things are a little wild,” she agreed. She shifted nervously in the next moment, a blush rising to rosy her features before she continued, “It’s part of why I reckon I like watching you do it. Work here don’t ask for a whole lot of grace, but the way you move…” She hesitated, diffidence in her mien, perhaps seeking an explanation that would avoid offense. “It’s kind of like dancing, you know? Ain’t nothing I’d ever seen before.” 

          His smile faded. “I suppose it may be appear thus, but you would be wise not to confuse its purpose. There is nothing graceful about a real battle.” 

          “I’ll have to take your word on that. Things round here tend to be peaceful, though Daddy used to say that’s a matter of fortune, and I took his word honest considering he saw enough of fighting when he was my age.” 

          “Your father was right.” He looked at her curiously. “I wasn’t aware Talon fought in the war.” 

          “He didn’t. Grandpa wouldn’t have none and no part of it, he said. It was my uncle who ran off to join the regiments, and then my father wasn’t going nowhere because I was coming. But war finds you anyway, he always said. I ain’t got much in the way of memories of my uncle, but his death grieved my Daddy something fierce. He didn’t like to talk about it at the best of times.” 

          “He had reason for it, I imagine. Some stories aren’t bettered by their telling,” he said simply. 

          She looked at him thoughtfully, and he tensed at the inquisitiveness in her expression. In all the time they had been acquainted, he had been a child of armaments, and she had been either discreet or incurious enough thus far to avoid interrogating him further on the matter. Thankfully, she was apt to the wariness in his bearing and kept to herself on what matters curiosity aroused. 

          “Assume that’s how he felt about the whole of it,” she agreed. “He never liked me much around the soldiers. I’d never seen a sword drawn before you got here.” 

          “Count yourself lucky in that regard. It is an art without beauty.” 

          “Perhaps it is you that makes it beautiful then,” she rejoined impishly, but her humor was as brief as her blunder. The blush flashed over her features, hot and stark, as her hands flew up to conceal it. 

          Startled, he barked out an short laugh, even as the sentiment begged pause. Link had long matured enough into erotic awareness of his own physicality to know himself handsome; he was not so unequipped to receive her compliment readily. Time, though, had taught him well the circumspect nature of female sentiments on matters of attraction. Her impropriety bore more scrutiny, and she seemed to know it by the chagrin evident in her manner. In this matter, he knew a deft hand would be required. The disclosure was incidental if anything and hardly opportune, and he imagined the indelicacy of its nature was what troubled her most. He observed her for a moment, calibrating his response, disinclined to extend her mortification indefinitely. 

          “I am flattered you think so,” he said evenly, hoping his manner reflected encouragement. 

          “No, don’t go making it worse by being nice!” She groaned, covering her face with her hands. 

          “No such pretense is required. It was harmless compliment.” 

          “It was too forward by half,” she confessed gravely. “Wasn’t my intent to embarrass you none.” 

          Gesturing vaguely at the air, he gave her a bemused look. “I knew your intent.” 

          “You’re being kind again.” 

          “As were you.” 

          He watched with evident humor as the flush ebbed away slowly, her hands falling away to reveal the lingering stain of blush across her cheekbones. The summer’s freckles stood stark against her complexion, even if the waning power of the late summer sun had eased the tan of her skin. The blue of her eyes was vivid as she gazed up at him, a shy smile slowly curving her face as cheer returned to her features. He had done his work well enough then. Self-preservation would do the rest of the work of making her amenable to his next suggestion. 

          He straightened, gathering himself together. The time was now so late as to be early, and her guard was lowered enough to make a pointed strike. “The night is waning, and we with it, I imagine.” Turning, he looked at her pointedly. “Given the hour, I think it prudent we retire now.” That a tired tongue was a looser one went unspoken. 

          “I think you may be right about that.” Lingering for a moment, she let herself feel the wind’s bite, the cold rippling over her in shivering waves. “This time of year, the night ain’t so friendly, anyhow.” 

          She took a step away from the fence, wavering suddenly as her exhaustion caught up. He moved with alacrity to her side, propping her up by the elbow. 

          “Perhaps expedience is in our best interest,” he amended. 

          Her tone was tired but teasing. “It may be, but I’ll be moving at my own pace, I reckon.” 

          She stifled a yawn and offered no resistance when he maneuvered her toward the house. Through the door he directed her, then kept close as she shuffled up the stairs, fatigue retarding her motions perceptibly. At her doorway, he paused to steady her and unfastened his grip from her arm, disconcerted at the degree of his concern. Leaning on her shoulder, she offered him a tired but gracious smile. 

          “Thank you. Not just for the help now, but for everything. I mean it when I say you’re doing a real kindness by the rest of us by being here. I know there is world aplenty you could be going when there’s nothing tying you here.” 

          “It is no burden,” he said simply. 

          “If so, it is only by your choosing that it’s not,” she contended and gave him a long look, thoughtful and benign. 

          Something in her face shifted as they lingered then, impenetrable to his knowing. The sliver of light from her window illuminated her edges faintly where she stood braced, turning something over in her mind with the steady churning of a river’s current. She had almost the abstraction of shadow in her rumination, a place hidden beyond view and equally opaque. The moment sat between them, heavy and brimming with idle energy, like the frustrated kinesis of a pendulum at a rest. It was an unbalancing that perturbed him, even as the seconds held him fast. If she were an arrow knocked on a bow, he knew with immediate certainty her aim would be good and true when released. 

          Eventually, she shook herself of whatever intrinsic magic had bewitched her, releasing the snare that had tethered them both to the moment, and mumbled a goodnight with a smile that was altogether too fond as she shut the door. He let his shadow darken her step for a moment longer, filled with inexplicable relief, before returning to himself and retiring to his own quarters. 

          He did not sleep - he never did on a full moon - but neither did he return to any productive action, either, consumed with the happenings of the night, the exchanges that seemed now charged with a queer and precarious energy in his mental deliberations. Again and again, the moment turned over in his mind, a stone with archaic runes whose meaning he could not recover, until the morning broke through with urgent air and endless distractions. 

          In later years, he would return to that moment, the picture of her as shadow and light and memory, and would know instinctively that it was there that it had all began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is years in the making. I've come across plenty of Link/Malon that I've enjoyed but always wanted to contribute my own take on the pairing, since while I enjoyed most author's takes, I never quite found one to my satisfaction of how I saw it going down. This story a work in progress, but I have most of it outlined and in various stages of drafting. Time willing, I'm aiming to update with a new chapter every two weeks. Chapter 1 is nearly completed and will be in the next two weeks and so on and so forth.


	2. The Turning of Seasons and Earth

**Chapter 1: The Turning of Seasons and Earth**

          Summer courted fall early and received frigid reception for it, but the three of them bore through the worst of it with grim resolve. In the weeks following the first hoarfrost, Malon asserted herself with new vigor, ordering her charges about with a distinctly militant air, whether beast or fowl or man. Winter stood now as concrete certainty in the forefront of her mind, the fall merely a veiled courtesy that would soon be lifted, and she tended to her own duties as well as others for it. Link imagined it was this hardiness and dedication of character that curbed the worst of Ingo’s displeasure when she went in on them. They found her often enough fatigued and overworked, asleep at tables or in chairs, and in one memorable instance, curled around one of the rejected foals in a hay pile, having inspired as much repose in herself as the horse with her singing. The sight was affecting enough to bring a light smile to his face, and even Ingo’s implacable scowl had softened momentarily, though it had returned with adamant force at the sight of Link carrying her off to bed soon after. If the days were shortening, so too was his temper, and Link yielded no tolerance for it and said as much, solidifying an inimical but ultimately functional stalemate between the two of them. Ingo sulked and complained, but both honored their respect of Malon’s temperament.

          Link’s nocturnal peculiarities did not improve with time but neither did Malon’s intervention persist in the weeks following their encounter. Perhaps she had recognized the unbecoming and vaguely disconcerting air the hour stirred between them and cast her own protective wards against it, though it was just as likely a symptom of the exacting and toilsome nature of her days. Nevertheless, there had been a recognizable shift in the manner of their acquaintance, as if his words in the night had opened the door for her into the wide spectrum of amiable potential. She sought out his company with less hesitancy, their conversations imbued with a more candid warmth from her end, though she kept an appreciable respect of his boundaries, rarely intruding on his time and quietude outside of the day hours. The change was minuscule in proportion but enough to inspire notice, like a frame tilted askew among rectilinear portraits. It was not something that necessarily demanded correcting, but every small maneuver with which he sought to right it merely aided in setting it to other odd angles. Fretting about it was its own kind of madness, the sort of which he sought to smooth over by attributing it to her generally genial nature.

          For his part, he had kept a keen and watchful eye out for spirits and their ilk since Malon’s confession of her troublesome dreams, but few of the supernatural sort ventured into the ranch and fewer still lingered in its boundaries. If Talon had tarried on the corporeal plane, he had done so with intent and then progressed with haste upon accomplishment of his deed - neither qualities of which he could be accused of encapsulating in life, which made Link hesitant to presume it augury of any matter. The only ghost that worried their walls was a pale and dismal woman who tended mainly to Ingo, which ultimately aided in justifying the distance Link kept from her. He had little desire to examine the frayed threads that roped those two together in whatever slackened noose had failed in delivering a decisive break. Attending the needs of the dead had taken toll enough from him, and he focused his aim on the living for now.

          The early chill finally broke mid-season to grant them a few weeks’ respite of moderate temperature and clear skies. Advantaging what ease the weather spared, Malon had requested Ingo finalize storage and inventory needs for the coming cold months, while directing Link to addressing the overdue infrastructural repairs and herself to the animal tending. They had started early when the air had been cool and crisp, but by midday, the sun had managed to eke out the last dredges of its summer vim, an admirable feat that left him sweltering and vexed as he tussled with splintering woodwork and barbed wire. The noon hour saw his tunic sacrificed and his undershirt soaked through soon enough. Perspiration drew glistening lines along the curve of his neck; partnered with a light dizziness, it forced abeyance by afternoon, enough so that his relief was palpable when Malon intervened with refreshment. The chiding in her expression was impossible to miss, but he refused to entertain her scolding until he drained a second cup of water.

          “Between you and the horses, I ain’t sure which is more stubborn,” she observed drolly. “You’d have done yourself rights to break a while ago instead of making me come on out here to fetch you.”

          Reclining to his elbows, he looked up at her from his position on the ground, slitting his eyes against the sun’s glare. “You said yourself there was more work to be done than the season would allow. I figured laxity would be less well received.”

          “Don’t you be sassing me none! Swear you wouldn’t eat half as much on a good day if I weren’t persisting on reminding you. Fair wonder you haven’t upped and starved on me.” Tapping his foot with her boot, she signaled for him to follow. “Get on up now and come in. I’ve got something to talk to you about, anyhow.”

          Link gave her an amused look as he straightened, then rocked to his feet, making languid show of it as he unfurled into standing. He stretched, enjoying the tension and release of sore muscle and cracking of fatigued joints, a body of simple satisfactions. When he finished, he glanced her way to see her observing him with remarkable openness. Flippancy was his first instinct, but something in the frankness of her appraisal checked him, and he merely returned her bold scrutiny with narrowed eyes. Her lips pursed with unspoken puzzlement, but she turned and gestured for him to follow wordlessly, offering him no immediate recourse to her effrontery.

          The house was cooler by degrees, and he savored the reprieve it provided as Malon ushered him over to the table. Judging by the spread, she had toiled admirably in her concern for his well-being in absence of his own, and he could be certain her favor was colored by the expectation of his mute acceptance of her meddling. It was well enough received: the moment the scent hit him, his stomach twisted in hunger, leeching the strength from any antagonism he intended. He cultivated his silence accordingly and let her bustle about him as he ate with earnest intensity.

          Eventually, she finished her task at hand and took a seat from him crosswise, her physiognomy reflecting a mixture of domestic satisfaction and smug knowing. The sharp edge of his hunger blunted, he gave her an expectant look. He recognized the aura of a purposed woman well enough to know feigning ignorance would serve him no benefit.

          She took the proffered opening with gracious gesture. “I got intentions for traveling about now while the weather’s good. There’s some necessities needing getting, and I was looking to your help to do it.”

          He stirred the food on his plate before answering. “To my recollection, you usually find Ingo’s hand acceptable enough for such matters.”

          “Yes, but I’ve got a mind for your company this time,” she returned smartly.

          “And what encourages this preference over his?”

          She grinned a little. “Well for one, and I imagine it unkind of me to say, but you do a sight more listening than you do complaining, and the state of things got him good and riled up lately. Don’t think I’ve heard a kind word out of him in a week’s time, and he’s got plenty to do here as is that I’d rather him get finished with the lot of it.”

          He considered her point with faint amusement, then persisted, “And for what other matters is my company deserved?”

          Fiddling with the cutlery, she glanced away for a moment, then sighed. “Ingo’s been doing the inventory, and it’s looking likelier that we haven’t the stores to make it through the winter with our current stock. I’m not looking to lose a calf or foal, either, so it’s best we get asking around if anyone’s looking to buy. I could use your help transporting goods given the rumors coming our way.” She gave him a meaningful look, and he nodded for her to continue. “There’s been talk in town of bandits on the eastern roads”

          Link straightened, his features and tone sharpening as he made a cutting and dismissive gesture. “Talk of bandits implies negligence on the part of Hyrule’s militia. Castle Town is too significant a center of commerce to allow it.”

          “And if we were heading to Castle Town, I wouldn’t be fretting myself about it none, but Kakariko’s a decent day’s travel out.”

          “Kakariko?” Blinking, he inquired, “What business have you there?”

          “All sorts, but I’ve got a mind for it. Town’s got enough competition that we’d be doing ourselves some good trying our hand farther out.”

          “You are certain of Ingo’s word on the matter?” he pressed.

          She gave him a wry look. “You got a reason I should doubt it?”

          He did, but it was not one that could be given voice sensibly. While distant, Link knew the village held enough import to the Sheikah for its disregard to bear scrutiny. It spoke conceivably of happenings unseen, like movement beneath the surface of dark water.

          “I know you two don’t get on well, but I trust him in business matters,” she continued, “He’s got a mind for the work, and if there’s trouble, gods know he’ll be sure to tell of it. I ain’t questioning the particulars on this issue, but it makes me anxious to consider the like of it, even if it’s keeping place mainly with city talk.”

          “You are in want of my sword then,” he concluded thusly.

          “That’s the short of it. I’m not eager to beg your service of it, but neither Ingo or myself is in a state to do much in either case, I’d reckon. It’d be a comfort to have your company.”

          “Then you will have it,” he assured. “At what hour do you intend to depart?”

          “Tomorrow, the earlier the hour the better is my thinking. We’d best tend to the daylight hours. Ingo will handle matters well enough on his own. He’s done it long enough as is.” Relieved of their previous tension, her features creased with hidden laughter, eyes sparkling. “Besides, I’m sure it settles him well enough to avoid his mama’s fussing. She ain’t been giving him a moment’s peace last few times we went visiting.”

          Picturing Ingo as a child, much less one attended by maternal concern, was a challenging notion. Link preferred not to dwell on it. Reclining in his chair, he studied her thoughtfully. “You are in fine spirits despite the circumstances.”

          “I’ve come into the notion that I got no business fretting over the state of things. We’ll manage what we can, but we’re as ready as we can be. Worrying myself to distraction won’t fix it one bit.”

          “A healthy notion,” he agreed.

          “That asides, I am in fine spirits because I have myself fine company! Ingo and I got ourselves enough experience between us the handle the worst of it, and you’ve proven more than capable. I can account myself fortunate for your kindness and friendship besides.”

          Tilting his head, he scanned her bearing for insincerity, but as always, the endeavor was futile. Upon her countenance, the smile wore cleanly, and he forced to cede ground to a presumption of genuine character. Forthrightness he could understand, and he was well enough plainspoken in his own right, but with Malon, he had the sense the cards were always laid on the table for his perusal, disarming in its own principled way. She aspired for kindness and honesty of person, as she had stated often enough plainly, and comported herself with as good an imitation of those virtues as she could manage. He was never certain whether the notion incited better his envy or concern.

          Pushing his chair back, he gathered his plates as he stood. “Regardless of limitations, we should hasten to accomplish what we can while the weather allows. I reason the south window can easily by fixed by the evening with proper mind applied to the work of it.”

          “Can’t imagine you’d do any less,” she said brightly, then swept the dishes out of his hands with a flourish. “Get along now. I’ll get to cleaning up here, and I’ll be after you soon to see it done right.”

          Nodding, he lingered long enough to watch her take to tidying with the same methodical efficiency with which she approached everything, fascinated by the uniformity of her independence in all tasks. To his knowing, it had always been her nature, but it came taxed with an isolation he was unsure was equally welcomed. He could imagine easily that the village may hold sway beyond the particulars of farm business, something personal and distinguished beyond the borders of the domestic sphere in which he had always known her, which compelled greater interest than the grumblings of an embittered old man and taciturn farmhand.

          Thought in mind, he finally turned to make his leave. Inches from the doorway, her voice halted him, shaping his name. Presently, he felt the brush of her hand along his arm as she came to him, unassuming and brief in her touch. He regarded her earnest face with curiosity.

           “I just wanted to thank you again…I know this ain’t the business you came here for, and I dislike the asking of it. I’m not one to use a man lightly, I’ll be having you know.”

          He considered her solicitude appreciatively, weighing his response. “I have known you a woman of scruple for the measure of several years. Your requests of me are not so burdensome as to alter my perception otherwise.”

          “That comforts me some,” she admitted, then allowed a cautious and meek smile to cross her face. “I don’t want misunderstandings between us as to what I’m intending.”

          Holding her gaze seriously, he assured, “When I am ill-inclined to answer an appeal, you will well know it.”

          Shaking her head, she said shortly, “Considering how obliging you been lately, I fair think I’m safe for the time being.” She chanced a second touch on his arm, gentle and uncertain. “It’s a relief to hear it from you, though.”

          Bemused, he smiled down at her. “Few things am I empowered to change, but this -” He opened the door into the bright world beyond and stepped backwards, offering her a dramatic bow with hands spread. “This I can do for a good lady.”

          Her laughter followed him out of the house. The sound carried warmly and held fast in his memory for the rest of the day.

**********

          The night was unkind, his sleep restless. Dreams limned the past in dark strokes, distinct only in their unique and lingering horror. Towns buckled under the weight of falling moons while the sky burned, the earth upturned with bone and rot, and fairies whispered of coming death, the sharpness of blades and dragon’s teeth. He awoke gasping and cold in the blackness of late hours, his muscles aching and corded with the tension of unfulfilled action. His hand spasmed, in want of a blade, but the beasts were long slain and distantly yore. No cutting edge could slit the belly of the past, though it festered like carrion in the depths of him.

          There would be no further rest, he knew, and spent moments reassembling the whole of himself in time and place and person. Always there was the necessary minding upon waking - here I am, I am here \- and the seconds it took too long to believe it. With effort, he stood, securing himself against the inevitable spasm of muscles unclenching from inertia. He stretched long, rocking to the balls of his feet, before settling flat and steady on sure footing. The dark enclapsed him, and he regarded it momentarily, before moving to the table where the candle lay extinguished. It was easy enough to coax the flames to rekindle with simple magic, the warmth leaping off his fingers with delicate motion. The light was low but well enough received. His eyes skittered about the room, coming to the rest on his scabbard, and his tension was minutely allayed

          Moving briskly, he bent and lifted it, pausing to appreciate the comfort of its weight, then pulled the blade free. In the dim light, the steel was a rigid stripe of silver that pierced that dark; turning it so, it captured the light, glinting with cold lustre and martial promise. Cloaked as they were in shadows, the sword felt like a continuity of self, one figure extending from flesh and bone to hilt and blade. There was an ungentle honesty in such an imagining, though he took care not to vex himself with the pondering of it. Shifting his stance, he swung it in a low, horizontal arc, accomplished with disciplined speed that failed to chase away the shadows.

          Malon wanted a swordsman, and she would have one, perhaps the most authentic of the masks he had worn for her since his arrival here. He had his doubts to the veracity of Ingo’s claims, but neither could he abide her fears. His purpose in that regard had always been presented to him with abundant clarity; it was the peculiarities of common living that eluded him. Still, plenty had troubled their lot to improve his person otherwise, and that consideration had done as much to stay his sword these past few years as the peace. The blade was never idle in his hands, but he could be sure to cultivate his violence to moral ends, as he had promised so very long ago in the ageless forest of his youth. He had not the power to redirect fate nor purpose to do so any longer, but his capabilities remained intact even when thwarted of proper course. 

          Decided, he sheathed the blade and went about preparation for the day long ahead. Morning would unfurl soon enough and extend gilded reach into the corners of their world, awakening beast and man alike, but solitude would be his armor for a brief spell yet. He washed with careful deliberation and dressed plainly, intending an inconspicuous character. He spared the broadsword in favor of a baselard and dagger; his intended violence was defensive and moderate, with little benefit afforded to exhibition. Discretion has its uses but so did a firm mastery of theatre - more so than he assumed as a child but essential in practice. The masks he wore now were invisible but equally purposed.

          By the morning’s fifth hour, Malon could be heard stirring, and he made to the stables and managed patiently the morning routines, refreshing water and feed as he moved from stall to stall. Winter demanded a nourishing hand and attendant concern, a habit he did well to encourage before the worst of the season was upon them. Epona awaited her turn with unconcealed impatience, butting his shoulder in hard reprimand when he arrived before her. A smile cut his features as she pressed forward eagerly, resting the groove of her chin on his shoulder, ears twitching with pleasure as he stroked her muzzle and murmured softly to her. It awakened a good memory of their initial meeting, the shy and skittish manner with which she had first presented herself, which had matured with time into a brazen and proud character. She was a fine companion, brave and steadfast, and they suited each other well, even as his requirements of her were often contrary and exacting.

          Malon had relinquished her with great reluctance years earlier, lecturing him on proper care with all of the profound authority a nine-year-old girl could muster; she had wept as she bade them farewell shortly thereafter when his own sorrows had compelled him again to the forest of his youth. He suspected her ingenuous pleasure at their reunion was improved measurably by the horse’s presence, a sentiment bolstered further by her recent confession that she had once wished Epona for her own. Considering Malon’s accord for the most fractious and impudent of creatures, it surprised him little – and he supposed her brief suspension of his itinerant nature could be accounted a subsequent victory.

          They broke apart as Ingo and Malon announced themselves with the squeal of old hinges, the clatter of tools, and the latter’s high laughter. Curiosity aroused, he turned and went to meet them at haste, finding the two of them entangled at arms. He frowned for the sight, but Malon straightened as she saw him, beaming with gladness and high humor. She pulled herself free of Ingo’s grip and came to him with arms extended in affable gesture. Always a boundary she was careful to maintain between them, but he could feel keenly the warmth of her presence, the way her hands hovered close to his skin, almost vibrating with unextracted energy, like a hummingbird paused. It seemed the honeyed wellspring of good spirits remained intact from yesterday’s sunny tidings.

          “Was wondering where we’d find the sight of you! Had me worrying when I found you neither at home nor afield, but here you are good and fit for the work of it!”

          He reciprocated her smile with milder airs. “You indicated a mind for expedience yesterday. I looked to readiness as the solution.”

          “You callin’ me idle?” she laughed, all glittering eyes and white teeth. “I’ll be having you know a cock’s crow greets daylight later than I do!”

          “A false charge if any.” He spread his hands in suppliant gesture, palms turned upward and eyes downcast humbly. “You would take me for a man of such unjust character.”

          “Foolishness is the only character I’d be charging you with!” Swatting lightly at him, she circumvented him gracefully to salute the true object of her morning’s joy. “And how is my good and pretty girl this morn?” Rising on her toes, she reached up to loop arms around Epona’s neck, who received her affections with traitorously open reception, leaning into the embrace fully. He could not count a beast more self-satisfied than the look of that horse acquiring attentions in quantities that apparently rendered his meager supply inadequate.

          Shuffling over, Ingo planted a pitchfork down with a sturdy thud, his eye critical. “You’d spoil those horses silly given the opportunity, girl.”

          “Oh come now,” she huffed, “She is a horse and a lady both, and all fine ladies need a little attending now and then.” Rubbing her hands briskly down her muzzle, Malon leaned forward and kissed her snout, before pulling away with a final pat and turning to face them. “Maybe you boys are the ones needing a little learning on how to treat a girl!”

          Ingo rolled his eyes, but his expression lacked the hard edge of disdain typically present. If pressed, Link would say it was even fond. “This farm’s got enough demands on a man without throwing social niceties in the mix. I’ll save the curtsy for the ladies with coin.”

          “Then I reckon you’ll be waiting a good and long time for their attention!” she crowed, then laughed as his expression fell. Link suppressed the smile tickling the corners of his mouth.

          “Girl, if it wasn’t for the decades I’d known you, I’d wonder about the rightness in that head of yours.” He shook the pitchfork in a vague and meaningless gesture of forewarning. “Keep it up, and you’ll be mucking the stalls yourself this morning.”

          “I doubt you’d ever do me such unkindness.” She made a move toward him smiling, but Link outpaced her. He cut a dividing line between them, centered and deliberate.

          “Now Malon,” he said carefully, “have caution in what limits you drive a man. One can never be certain when his are breached.”

          “What fun would there be in minding that,” she giggled.

          Snorting, Ingo shot an exasperated look their way. “You couldn’t tell that girl twice about danger before she went barging in to find it herself.”

          “Then perhaps your unkindness is merely awaiting opportunity,” Link answered bluntly, letting the weight of his gaze fall on Ingo. He savored the heaviness of the silence that followed in the pause after.

          Aback, Ingo’s brow furrowed, more perplexed than affronted. “Imagine you could find that out well before the girl does,” he responded finally.

          Link replied with only a smile, cutting and thin, but did not resist when Malon took his arm with a clucking noise. “Y’all behave now and save the row for later, we got business that needs attending.” Leaning over his shoulder, she winked at Ingo. “I know you’ll do me a right thing making sure those cuccos haven’t gone on a tear about the state of things. I ain’t fed them yet, and I reckon they’ve got some words about it.” She gave him a jaunty smile and extended her hand expectantly for the pitchfork.

          Grumbling, he handed it over. Reprieve from a stall cleaning was nothing to sneer at but came with heavy toll. “Reckon you’ll find my corpse laid out before the two of you finish things. Don’t be wasting the morn on your sentimental foolery round them horses.” With a huff, he spun on his heel and made for the door.

          “Sentiment is never wasted on horses!” she called after him, laughing. After a beat, she turned her spirited regard on him, humming a low note. “He’s right, though. We’ve to mind our hours if we want to make Kakariko in good time. If you get the horses out to pasture, I’ll be finishing the lot of it myself. Ain’t much looking to be done now.” When he nodded his assent, she released her hold on him and waved him off with no further word.

          The horses took to the fields easily enough, seduced by the privilege of a late season’s warmth. Epona trailed his movements doggedly, making an impatient show of things when his attentions toward the others exceeded her tolerance. Eventually, he surrendered to the inevitable and swung himself up, settling carefully on her bare back, before spurring her forward with a light kick. She darted forward ecstatically and nearly unseated him, taking him for a wild run over fence and obstacle alike. Boundlessly energetic, it took good and ample time for her to settle, though he figured her excitement better spent now than alone later under Ingo’s impatient care. By the time she relinquished her hold on him and allowed a dismount, she had him well harried, and he required a moment to sort himself out, adjusting his clothes and unwinding the long plait of his hair to smooth the strands pulled free by the wind. The affection bubbled up in him, light and true, but he saved his smile for places unseen. The last thing she needed was enabling.

          Finally managing to ward her off, he turned his focus to the other horses, scrutinizing them carefully. Lon Lon horses were a handsome and capable lot, but they would need to be in good and finest fettle to manage themselves under potential siege. After some deliberation, he settled on two geldings with sturdy and placid bearing that he knew were well favored by Malon for their obedience. They bore his attentions well, and by the hour’s end, they were harnessed and hooked to the wagon, awaiting further orders with patience, and earned their keep well enough for the privilege of apples, which Malon happily provided when she found them soon after.

          Patting a snout fondly, she exchanged a smile with him across the horses. “These two are a right and fine choice, I reckon. They got some traveling under them, and they ain’t the skittish sort.”

          Nodding, he tightened a harness, testing its tensile strength. “Caution will be a judicious companion in the face of uncertain hazard.”

          “I’ll be looking to luck to counter the rest of it,” she agreed. 

          A frown shaded his features. “I would attribute few things to matters of fortune - and to that which can, I’d accord even less trust. The world’s happenings are rarely so arbitrary in my knowing.”

          “Then I’ll account you the whole of my luck,” she responded merrily, disregarding his objection on the matter. Coming around to his side, she inspected his work and granted approval with a short nod. “This’ll do well enough. We’re making better time than I reckoned. Fancy at this rate we’ll make town by midday.”

          He aided her in loading what goods she wished bartering in Kakariko before making final check of the horses. When he went to offer a hand up, he found her grinning down at him from the driver’s seat, reins at the ready. He took the mild rebuke with good nature and made his way over to the other side, climbing up beside her silently. At once settled, she spurred the horses forward and off.

          Past the gates of Lon Lon Ranch, the world opened up wantonly, spread lush and verdant across the span of their sight. Invigorated by the lingering warmth of summer, it took on a ferocious beauty, impressing on him mercilessly the smallness of their domestic habitat. It made Link sigh to see it. The vision carried weight but of a pleasurable and happy character. Even Malon seemed susceptible to its elemental magic: save the words exchanged with Ingo on their way out, she fostered an uncommon quiet between them. It hung in the air with the feather-light presence of a cloud, an agreeable and unobtrusive companion to sun and earth, and aided in keeping his eye sharp and mind fixed. While Ingo’s veracity was doubtful, trouble bid its time carefully and prospered in apathy. Little served to distract his sentry this late in the season, though birds sang in wondrous choir as the breeze circled lightly about them like the twirling of a lady’s skirts.

          In the second hour, Malon took to humming, the notes melodic yet driftless. Her music was hardly disruptive, though it gave occasion to fleeting observation of her person. He studied her profile with distant curiosity. In the time afforded by his preparation, he could see that she had taken opportunity to wash and change, and she cut a charming figure in fresh linens and loosed hair. While she was hardly unkempt at the worst of times, it was a marked shift from the pragmatism inherent to her normal dress. It abetted his suspicions that this trip carried a personal and secretive weight to which he was not privy, though his speculation as to the source of her preoccupation was lazy at best.

          They were close to the village when Malon finally broke the stillness, turning to him at the end of a low note. “It’s uncommon peaceful this way. I’d have reckoned more travelers with the break in the weather this time of year, but we ain’t seen many in the passing.”

          “Rumors hold heavy sway, even bereft of truths. Travelers may defer to caution given the protection afforded by Castle Town’s improved guard.” He glanced at her sidelong and sly. “Worry not. You have the company of my sword.”

          “And your magics, if I’ll be presuming right.”

          Surprise scattered across his features. He raised an eyebrow at her bold charge. “What know you of any magic I possess?”

          If he had not known her better, he would accord unadulterated smugness to her features, but her smile spoke also of the unexpected pleasure at having ambushed him. “This day past, when you were working the fields? I saw your markings.” A vague circling gesture was directed at his chest, a primitive emulation of the intricate runes that adorned the skin beneath his layers. “Caused me a right confusion until I recalled the like of them. My granddaddy had those when I was little. A magical sort, ain’t they?”

          “Of a kind,” he answered carefully, “though to my knowledge, they are uncommon in Hyrule proper.”

          She nodded. “Papa said he’d gotten ‘em long before his time. Traveling up north and somewhat. My family ain’t got much talent to speak of where magic’s concerned, but my granddaddy could light a fire without flint and charm girl and mare alike with his singing.” Grinning a little, she added, “Daddy used to jest I had a witch’s hand for bespelling horses compliments of him, but that’s just his foolishness. There’s nothing so special about it.”

          “Perhaps nothing so ordinary, either. Most Hylians are capable of simple magics. It is a matter of opportunity and study.”

          Intrigued, she looked at him with wide eyes and guileless interest, fidgeting with excitement at having verified this new and uncovered facet of his character. “My life ain’t much for affording me either, but I’m figuring same can’t be said for you. What spells have you been castin’ on the sly?” she implored, lashes fluttering prettily.

          He laughed for the sight of her teasing. “None so remarkable as the bewitching of maidens and horses. The magic I have encountered serves me well but does the world little beauty outside of its pragmatism.”

          Pouting, she made a show of disappointment. “Not even a witch’s cauldron to be had behind closed doors?”

          “I reckon that impossible to escape your notice, even if I mustered the strength to carry it such distances as I have traveled.” Thoughtfully, he paused, looking to the distance. “Potions are not so simple a magic as would appear. Their production is constrained to the most adept of witches. The old hag in Kakariko is of a certain few I would trust with their making.”

          Malon’s eyes lit up excitedly. “I know of her! I’m intending to visit her today, actually.” Her brow furrowed. “I knew rumors of her witchcraft but not the business of it.”

          “She keeps a cautious front and tailors her clients accordingly. A good witch dispenses her wares selectively.” Turning to her, he inquired, “What business have you with her?”

          Her hesitation was subtle and brief, though he caught the edge of it. “A few things I’ve been meaning to get for the keeping during the winter, and she comes recommended for it.” A blush swept her face fleetingly before she straightened and smoothed her features into neutral prettiness. “And besides, she’s something of kin to Ingo. His mother’s cousin or aunt or the like. Been doing some good to give her a call.”

          That information was novel, and he blinked in bewilderment at its knowing. “A wonder at his place beside you when he hath such kin in number here.”

          “No such wondering if you knew the times he came to us. War displaced lots of folks from my daddy’s telling of it, and the economics was troubling even before then. He and my mama came both from Kakariko, actually. To my remembering, they were friendly-like as children and that didn’t much change when they ran into each other at the ranch. She came for maid’s work and him livestock, and neither wound up leaving it after.” Leveling her gaze at him, she added seriously, “I ain’t being too generous when I say Ingo’s kin is near as much mine at this point as anybody. Got all the same roots at the end of it.”

          Link considered this information carefully, examining its purpose and storing it away as carefully as he would any other potential and uncertain device. What intent Malon had in the telling of it, he could speculate, but it was impossible to know the whole of it, like a letter whose wetting had worn away ink and left only cryptic snatches of meaningful dialogue. She had made the tenderness of her feelings toward Ingo abundantly clear, as much through action as statement, and had yet to retreat from her insistence of kindness, but neither had she impressed on him much specific disdain for the contention between them. That it displeased her was certain, but she was not one to meddle extensively in the affairs of others and kept her feelings plain but passive. Through respect of this circumstance, he kept his knowledge of Ingo’s lesser qualities inarticulate, though that was as much a matter of self-preservation as any; it invited questions he had not the patience or mind for and little would be improved by the telling. It was a quarrel he doubted could be resolved forthwith.

          Instead, he directed her attention to the road ahead. “Ahead is the bridge crossing the Zora River. We’ve made town in good time.” His lips twitched suddenly, forming a queer smile. “One could say you have indeed followed your route to the end of it.”

          Groaning, she pushed her shoulder into him. “Oh, you are _terrible_ ,” she declared. They were coming up on the bridge, and she pulled on the reins to slow the horses. Facing him, she gave him a look that was as long-suffering as it was in equal parts affectionate. “Promise you’ll be sparing me such embarrassments in the public square.”

          “There are no promises of certainty, my lady.” With that, he hopped down, tracing a hand along the flank of the gelding to soothe them into careful step. Taking a hold of the harness, he guided them straight. Their hooves clacked sharply against the marbled stone, making loud report to his ear. He was unsurprised to find a guard awaiting them at the base of the entryway a moment later. Their racket had been plenty between the horses and the clattering of wheels.

          “Hoy, traveler! What business have you in Kakariko this day?”

          Link kept his silence, turning to gesture to Malon, who waved in enthusiastic and amiable greeting. He watched the guard’s face break into easy delight. “The lady Malon! To what do we owe the pleasure of your company this late in the year?”

          “You’re to be thanking the sunlight and the need of things, Jarrus.”

          She stood to dismount, and he came to her aid, offering a chivalrous hand that she accepted with visible gratitude. Carefully, she stepped to the grass and clasped his hand warmly with both of hers. “It’s good to be seeing you well. Your brother’s been telling me some tall and lengthy tales about your doings lately.”

          Laughing, he released his grip on her, leaning his weight against the pike he had planted hard against the ground. “He is an incorrigible sort. Imagine that captain’s promotion has done naught to discourage it.”

          “I done told him as much. I’m glad to see the like of you, though. Imagine my traveling here wouldn’t be half as merry without your handsome face to greet it.” She winked at him playfully.

          “Miss Malon, a gentleman fancied could not charm as well as you.” Tilting to the side, he scanned her wagon thoroughly and with knowing scrutiny. “Imagine you have a task in mind for me already.”

          Placing a hand over her chest, she feigned offense. “What sort think you me to do such a thing. My compliments ain’t got no entailments.” A second later, she grinned, sly and uneven. “Besides, that’s what I’ve brought him for.” Jerking her hand back, she thumbed a gesture in Link’s general direction, where he stood quietly observing them with detached bemusement.

          “Ah, a new face at Lon Lon ranch, then? Mister Ingo is your usual party.”

          “Not a new face,” she answered quickly, “but new to you and yours. Link is an old friend who is doing me a right kindness by his company.”

          “Is he now? Anyone worthy of Miss Malon’s kindness must be a right man indeed.” Jarrus turned to him with a smile. “A good day to you, sir.”

          Link titled his head in acknowledgment, then shifted to address Malon directly. “What service do you wish of me? We are unwise to tarry at the expense of daylight hours.”

          The young soldier’s face reflected incredulity, but Malon swept his brusqueness aside with her laughter. “You see, Jarrus? He intends me right by keeping me to my business now.” Running a finger along her bottom lip thoughtfully, she looked to him keenly. “I reckon you could help me unload the cuccos’s cages while I handle the rest. We didn’t bring so much to be requiring an extra hand.”

          Patting Jarrus’s arm fondly, she moved from him to unhitch the wagon, releasing the horses to graze. “Keep me a close eye on these two, and you’ll do all the tasking I’m needing from you.”

          “If you insist,” he responded, still disconcerted by the sight of things. “But if my assistance is required, do not refuse the asking. Hyrule’s soldiers exist to serve you and yours.”

          “You’re doing me plenty good here. Link and I will do well enough with our own doing.” She hefted a box with firm and steady grip, then sauntered past him with a grin to alleviate his concerns otherwise.

          Taking to the grand staircase, the two made their way up with deliberate and steady pace. Their burdens were impressive though not overwhelming, and Link had no inclination toward incident or harm. He kept pace with her carefully and discreetly. When they neared the top, she turned to him with a little smile expressly his.

          “You keeping me to task better than any watchman’s clock, you know that? I think you startled him right off with the telling of it.”

          Too overburdened to shrug, he merely glanced at her sidelong. “You obliged me with your protection on this journey. My intentions remain steadfast in that regard. If bandits are your concern, a late departure will invite their interest.”

          She shook her head. “I ain’t meaning to be contrary. You’ve just got a way about you that tickles me some. You say a lot with a little, and some folks just don’t understand the way of it.” Having reached the top, she rested a bit, setting the box down carefully. A light sweat shone on her brow, and her face flushed pink. He lingered for a moment, letting her rest.

          “Does my manner displease you?”

          Breathing deeply, she shook her head. “I’d certainly say not.”

          He raised an eyebrow. “Yet you trouble yourself with his regard?”

          “I trouble myself none. He just ain’t have the knowing of you that I do. And he’s a sweet sort, sensitive and the like. Wasn’t for his family, he’d have stayed clear of the military is my thinking. Some people just need protecting from their own niceties.”

          She sat a moment longer, then having enjoyed her brief respite, she rose again to direct them forward. She let her elbow bump his as she passed him, stating fondly, “Don’t you go reading me wrong - your manner suits _me_ just fine.”

          Trailing after her, he took time to observe the changes in the village. It had grown markedly since his youth, expanding outward and upwards into the hillside, though it lacked the riotous noise and motion of a true town. The buildings still reflected a cozy and cloistered sense of spacing, and he suspected it was preferred as such by most of the inhabitants. He was unsurprised when she led him past the well and toward the windmill, which sat central to the general action of the area. If there was something of matter, it seemed inevitably drawn there.

          Directing him to set everything down, she took quick inspection of their labor. “I’m of the mind this will do good enough for the time allowed. The rest remaining is an ambitious sort, and I’m not minding the leaving of it if need be.” Satisfied with their work, she turned to him. “I trust enough here for you to wander about. You done me favor enough without minding me the day’s worth. If you wish elsewhere, I ain’t minding.”

          He nodded carefully. “There is a family here I wish to visit,” he admitted vaguely. “I have not attended them in quite some time.”

          “Then I ain’t one to stop you.” Brushing dust from her skirts, she straightened before him, assuming a professional mien as her wares began to attract notice around them. “I’ve mind to leave by the late noon after I tend to my business, but I got no obligations of you until then.”

          Taking her words as his leave, he gestured farewell and then directed his step to the southern quarter. His eyes lingered on the familiar outlines of the homes that stood identical to his youth’s memory. If there was anything remarkable about Kakariko in the years since his departure, it was that it masked its changes impossibly well, presenting an aura of timelessness that was as uncanny as it was false. Time had its cloak and daggers, too, and they were often hidden well enough to catch a man unarmed. This village held secrets, and only by impossible magic had they remained hidden from the sight of its contemporary folk. Earth held its memories fast, rooted in place and time and person, and too often had he overturned them through incident or intent to have comfort of ignorance. He had carried his own for years now wherever he went, knowing that his roots would only serve as a tether to endless sorrow and heartache. 

          But as he arrived before the home of the cursed, he was reminded that goddess’ cared little for the intentions of man and even less for those they favored - and as Impa stood in the doorway, turned silently to acknowledge the sight of him, he knew immediately their eye was on him again.

          In this, Malon had been correct: time was a circle, and here he was again, carried back to the source of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two days late, but better than never! This one took a little extra time because I wound up restructuring it halfway through when I realized it would need splitting into two parts, but as you can see, that didn't do much because it's pushing 8K on its own. Hopefully, the latter chapters should not be so exposition heavy, but we needed to set the stage for things to come.


	3. Remarkable Happenings

         Impa had a way of looking at a man and cutting him sideways. He felt the knife of her regard intensely, the pointed edge of Sheikah insight that required no magicked lens or divine vision. It bore on him steadily until he returned it with equivalent weight, and then he watched as her body morphed from martial tension into astonished recognition. The moment sat between them, impregnated with nebulous and murky emotion, before she inclined her head to him, voice and posture steady. 

         “The swordsman of the forest, returned to Hyrule at last.” 

         “It would be so,” he answered carefully, “though I am years now removed from the forest of my youth.” 

         “It has been quite some time,” she agreed. 

         Looking him over, she let her eyes linger on his simple dress, the baselard and knife concealed but transparent to her knowing eye, before they traveled upwards to meet his hard gaze. She stepped from the doorway and took a careful stance with him, at once open and guarded, the cautious way one would perhaps approach a strange hound or an undrawn sword, aware of its capacities yet firmly set to counter it. Uncertain what to make of her manner, Link crossed his arms loosely and returned her look headlong, bereft of further words to offer. 

         Unruffled by his silence, Impa dared a step closer, stroking her chin thoughtfully. Finally, she broke her peace. “A curious and fortuitous meeting this is. Of the gods’ many wonders, I would not have suspected you among them today.” 

         “Such is the remarkable character of our encounters,” he answered tightly. 

         “Your appearance often does precede remarkable events,” she observed bluntly. “I would ask myself what matter of concern your appearance foretells but for the fact of Hyrule’s longstanding peace these ten years thence.” 

         “I would not wish to warrant you such discomforts. I can assure you my presence here is of an entirely unexceptional character.” 

         “A comfort it is then to become unremarkable.” He stiffened, but she did not relent. “And curious it is, to be comforted by such a fact.” 

         Smiling thinly, he gestured to her figure, the myriad knives he knew lay hidden under impossibly revealing layers. “I would think you, of all those in service of the crown, would find appreciation of it.” 

         Inclining her head, she conceded the point with a smile of her own. “It is indeed a fine thing to speak well of the queen’s health these past few years.” 

         Link jolted at the reference to Zelda but otherwise held himself still. He wondered idly if her contemporary title would ever take to his ears kindly or if she would forever remain locked in his memory as the orphaned princess of a lost era, borne endlessly on an ocean of endless and lonely griefs, well beyond the reach of his saving. 

         “I am glad to hear of it,” he answered finally. “Hyrule’s welfare has always predicated itself well on the health of the crown.” 

         Nodding, Impa dropped her hands and approached him with loosened guard, clasping her hands behind her back. He was not fooled for an instant. “I am glad to tell it, but I confess the queen is several years removed from my direct care. That is the obligation of her husband and her myriad attendants now.” 

         A muscle in his cheek ticked at the mention of the king, but Link refused to pursue the bait provided. “And how fares His Highness? I presume his duties performed well if Hyrule has prospered under his watch.” 

         “Rest assured, he is equally well, but I imagine if you cared for such news, you would have long pursued its knowing on your own.” Unbidden, Impa gave him a sharp smile, one that spoke plainly of her objection to their continued charade of normality. 

          _Fine_ , he thought, _let us dispense of pretenses otherwise._ A bared sword was better known than a hidden one. “If pleasantries disinterest you so, Lady Impa, what accounting would you have of my person?” 

         “I confess a terrible amount of curiosity as to your presence here in Kakariko. It is not such a common passage for Hyrule’s citizenry.” 

         “That is correct. I am here by way of a companion’s request. The owner of Lon Lon Ranch was in want of safe passage, and I saw no reason to refute her.” 

         “I am to understand the good lady Malon accompanied you here, then? Strange that you would leave her side unattended.” 

         “Malon is capable of her own attending,” he answered flatly, too vexed to halt the informality of his address. More cautiously, he continued, “If I were you, I would think it stranger that Miss Malon was in want of such protections in the first place.” 

         “That does beggar questions unanswered,” she admitted, “but I presume it unwarranted. One cannot account for all rumors that run wild among the townsfolk. Of late, I’ve been told there is talk of bandits, a baseless accusation if any. It would be untoward for Hyrule’s armies to leave travelers at the mercy of such dangers.” 

         According similar sentiments was not to his benefit, so he affected an indifferent shrug. “It is not my place to question her anxieties outright. That would be an unfriendly regard of her person.” 

         Impa held up a hand, deferring further discussion of the matter. “I meant no insult, merely reporting what I have heard. But that does not answer my question in full. You have come to Kakariko at her request but you seem to have intent beyond that.” Crossing her arms, she scrutinized him narrowly. “I am here at the behest of the crown. What business you have with the family of Veilkh is of greater interest to me. Kakariko is a village of closed origins, and none of yours that I know of are to be found here.” 

         There it was, then. Clenching a fist, he glanced away for a moment, before his gaze irresistibly flicked to the door of the residence behind her. Impa did not miss it, and her look spoke to her obstinance on the issue. He would have to cede ground, however begrudgingly. “No kin here have I to speak of,” he agreed, “but I am familiar with this family all the same. I became acquainted with them in my youth while in passage to Death Mountain, and provided the opportunity, I sought to inquire of their welfare given the kindness they once showed me.” 

         “Do you find them a queer sort?” 

         “Pardon?” 

         Tilting her head, Impa gave him a calculated and knowing look. “I ask if you find them strange. You have known them since childhood, correct? Would you speak to any unique character of that relationship?” 

         “Not to my reckoning,” he replied cautiously, “but that is dependent upon your meaning.” 

         “My meaning is to the nature of your acquaintance,” she clarified, tapping a finger impatiently against her forearm. “You admit to having no kin here, and your history with this village is limited, yet you have troubled yourself with acquaintance to one of the oldest and most storied families here? One that is rather notorious for its reclusive nature. Tell me, then, how one happens upon such a happy companionship?” 

         Link abruptly knew himself unmasked. Whatever deceit of innocence he intended was meaningless; he had neither the want nor vigor within him to outwit a Sheikah. In his experience, it was an impossible endeavor, anyhow. Tiredly, he looked to her and stated, “You can speak to your intent plainly. I have no mind for games.” 

         The look she gave him was almost pitying, but he was spared at least that indignity. Turning from him, she gestured for him to follow, moving to open the door. Before opening it, she looked to him again, her tone forthright and red gaze penetrating. “I ask because the family of Veilkh has been cursed some twenty years long. They were once of the high and noble houses until they fell to a dark witch’s hand, and I was tasked to exile them here until a cure could be found.” She smiled faintly. “But you would know that, wouldn’t you? How could you not?” 

         Opening the door, she gestured for him to enter first. “I’d warn you that their appearance can be quite shocking, but I suspect it will suffer you no ills. A curious boy you were, Link of the forests wild, to have befriended such a family. More curiosity yet do I have now for what you have to say to them these years later.” 

         Link sighed then followed her lead to enter the dark corridor of the house. Why she suffered pretext when she had carried such foreknowledge with her from the start, he could not know, but there was no gain in speculation. Sheikah cloaked themselves in shadows but only so long as to the time of required action. Her will would be made known to him soon enough. 

         The house was coated in murky darkness, oily and penetrating. What light seeped in from the boarded windows was thin and dismal, and Link frowned for the sight of it. It gave the assembly a gloomy bearing, oddly funereal with consideration to its sanctioned intent, but after a moment, his sight adjusted rightly, and his impression of its condition improved. Over the years, the restored family members had sought to reclaim some semblance of regularity to the home, installing furniture and decoration that offset its inherent melancholy. As he stepped to the center of the home, movement drew his eye to where the eldest son and youngest brother had turned at the sound of his entrance. Impa was not far behind him in step, but he knew by the startled look on their faces that their attention was fixed on him. 

         Arising, he came to them at haste, hands spread in hospitable comity. “By the three, it is to my look that blessings continue heartily in our stead. In these years past, reckon it I would not to see your face again in such remarkable health.” Sending a look back, he called happily, “Brother, I would not have you tarry so when gifted such benefactions as these. Come now and greet our guests warmly.” 

         Clasping his hand briefly, Ijoll gave him a light bow of the head. “Sir Link, your presence today is well pleasing and gladly received.” Looking to the side, he performed a similar salute to Impa. “As is yours always, Lady Impa. Forgive the tardiness of my greeting, but I would beg your leave of it given the unexpected grace of this uncommon visitation.” 

         Impa nodded charitably, coming astride Link with a slight and witting smile playing on her lips. “I require no apology for your excitement, Ijoll. Indeed, my encounter with this young man has been remarkable in my own finding. I have not set eyes on him myself for the span of several years – as like to your count, I’d imagine.” 

         Nodding, Ijoll gave them both an enthusiastic smile. “Since his boyhood, I have regarded this man a most honorable and kind companion in unkind times, but his welfare has stood unaccounted for the passage of several years now. My father had feared the worst for your person given the perilous nature of your endeavors but sought comfort from knowledge of your capabilities. It will serve his morale well to have knowledge of your return.” 

         In the flurry of greetings, the younger brother, Birram, had ambled up behind him and took an inconspicuous place beside his elder. Silent, he observed their greetings with remarkably neutral regard, though Link sensed the roiling of unspoken feeling beneath the surface of his placid features. Boxed between Impa’s sturdy frame and the sons’ respects, he felt oddly cornered, a sensation of viscous and membranous enclaspment that made the air seem thicker. 

         He shifted minutely, gently relinquishing his hands from Ijoll’s grip. “We are well met, Ijoll. However, your family’s welfare of considerably greater consequence than my own. I had no pleasure in my travels knowing your troubles persisted.” 

         “Strange that you would suffer an absence so long then,” the younger observed plainly. 

         Ijoll looked sharply to him, voice hasty. “Sir Link most assuredly has reason myriad for his travels, and we would not to interrogate him otherwise on the matter.” Placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder, he directed his body toward the stairs. “See to father that he is made knowledgeable of the day’s good blessings before we ascend.” 

         Chastened, but not cowed, Birram flicked his eyes over the gathering before seeing his way out. Link followed his movements up to where the shadows congregated to form opaque darkness, discomfort in his bearing. He became acutely aware of the tension in the room. 

         Smiling, Ijoll returned to them with apologetic grace. “Excuse my brother’s thoughtlessness. Our father’s health is a relentless burden, and I sometimes fear it wears on him worse now that our brothers have made for the city.” 

         Link nodded absently, unsure of his words. Birram’s unspoken charge of negligence felt weighty in the cold and silent air of the house. It thickened his tongue and made what platitudes he could offer seem unbearably coarse. 

         Eventually, Impa spoke for the silence. “How fares Enan for the present? I know his sons’ recovery rallied his spirits, but I cannot imagine his comforts extend beyond that mercy.” 

         Shaking his head, Ijoll sighed. “He has assumed a happy charade in his associations with us, but I know his distress persists with the passage of time and age. He would not presume my brothers remain to the abating of his griefs, but their absence does afflict his humor considerably.” 

         “I imagine also he is immeasurably more aware of the years waning,” she said dryly, “By my count, he would be man middle aged now. Time does not care to pause for the passage of suffering.” 

         “Though it is always certain to prolong it,” he responded grimly. Directing his attention to Link, he asserted, “I would not have you interpret this talk an affront to your character. You came to us a child offering immeasurable kindness and mercy and contributed more than an adequate share to the lessening of our ills. Your absence grieved us, but I would not to see your time expended wholly in the mitigation of our family’s sins.” 

         Impa nodded along to this speech, then added her part as she made a slow pace around the center of the home. “The brothers Tollil and Bara made entreaty to the king two years prior for want of royal aid. You can imagine the stir their appearance made among the courts - a noble family gone at haste twenty years prior suddenly thrust into the center of court upheaval. I was dispatched to research and report the events that had transpired here. What I found was a curiosity that surpassed the oddity of the residents here - a spider’s curse lifted in part, not by a witch’s hand or fairy’s magic, but by the efforts of a young boy with abilities far from the ordinary.” 

         She stopped her circle to stand opposite him beside Ijoll. “It seemed an impossible coincidence to be otherwise, but my suspicions were not verified until I set eyes upon you this day. To my knowing, this would be a second and unknown task by which you have served the crown well.” 

         Link swallowed, searching for his voice. He was aware that he would need to navigate this thicket well, thorny and prickly that it was. “The relevance of the family’s noble bearing was unknown and unremarkable to me. Though their appearance proved startling at first sight, they exhibited great kindness. Given their hardship, I could not but offer my services. It is comfort to know their care continued henceforth after I made leave of Hyrule.” 

         Ijoll seemed to sense he was party to unseen dialogue and moved to mediate. “I concur with Sir Link as to the subject of the crown’s benevolence, though I wish not to dwell on the immediacy of our grief. One’s senses are obscured by the narrowing of vision – much progress we have witnessed in our time, and we would be unwise to lose sight of it. Lady Impa, your visit is upon us unexpectedly. Have you good news for the sharing?” 

         “That will be to your understanding,” she answered. Placing a hand on her chin, she took a thoughtful stand, gathering her thoughts for the moment. “At your behest, I consulted some of the local witches on the spell. Some were not receptive to the telling of it, but I did locate a hag with appreciable knowledge of the magic. To her knowing, the curse is dormant once broken. Your brothers and you are therefore safe for the now, which tasks us only with the rectification of your father’s condition. Sadly, she had nothing further to offer beyond that.” 

         Releasing a heavy breath, Ijoll nodded. “That is a relief worth the having, even given the paucity of her knowledge. A sturdy consolation such knowledge will be to my ailing father.” Hesitant, he broached his next question carefully, “If we hasten to presume no alternative remedy exists, shall I inquire as to the status of your findings of the golden skulltulas?” 

         Impa’s face grew serious. “I fear I have no word of any found within the close borders of Hyrule castle, which necessitates a refinement of our approach.” Sidelong, she glanced at Link. “But if our swordsman has indeed pursued this task with a firm and devoted hand, that is not so surprising. The question remains now of where next to seek them out.” 

         “Power attracts them,” Link broke in, unable to hold his tongue further. “They thrive on corruption and even sacrilege, found in places steeped in high magic, often holy…” He drifted off, aware suddenly of Impa’s sharpened eye fixed on him. 

         “You would seem to have prescient knowledge of their nature,” she replied. 

         “Only that which I have observed first-hand. I know also that they are easily felled, despite the potency of their magic,” he continued. Meeting her eyes, he drew himself straight, his confidence whetted on the edge of his secret expertise. This he could do, had always done, and he could not be questioned otherwise. 

         “Then your experience should provide ample provision in our journey forward, will it not?" Her face was placid with innocent regard. 

         Between them, Ijoll stood thoughtful, allowing their discourse to flow around him. When he raised his head, Link could see cumbersome and loaded questions on his mind. “These revelations present a more complicated image of our continued progress against this untoward foe. I think it wise to consult my father further on the matter before I speak out of turn on his behalf. My uncertainty remains as to his mind on the matter of imperiling others in this quest. It grieves him plenty now that his children hath suffered so in his stead. I would not wish to see his distress furthered by your undoing.” 

         Extending a hand graciously, he gestured to them to be at peace and follow him upstairs. They did so quietly, honoring the mournful feeling that permeated the home as they tread to the second story. Beyond the veiling of viscid webs, there was the sound of murmuring voices which ceased as they came into sight. Birram turned to face them unhappily, though the ungainly monstrosity aside him was not so displeased at their entrance. 

         “By my sight, my son’s truth is spoken well to the blessings of the day. Come here, boy, let me see you in better light.” Enan’s voice was hoarse with age and sickness, but there was warmth in it, uncommonly pleasing for the sight of him otherwise. 

         Link walked toward him carefully, suppressing the quick and learned violence that rose in him at the sight of the unnaturally bestial and grotesque. The smell of decay clung to him and to all in his proximity, and Link stifled the reflexive nausea at the dense and aching awareness he had of the ruin of dark magic before him. Instead, he allowed his face the respite of a careful smile, gracious and fond. 

         “The blessings of the three be upon you, Enan. It has been some time since our last engagement,” he greeted. 

         “So that may be, but some years I am glad to place behind me. To see your countenance is a gift of its own making.” Squinting in the light, Enan studied him. “By my count, you are full man now – a boy of nine when we first met, if I recall rightly, and that would mean you well a fit and spirited lad of twenty.” 

         “You are correct,” he agreed quietly. “Time has its eyes ever forward.” 

         “And at haste,” was the response. A coughing fit seized him suddenly, and the amalgamation of limb and twisted flesh he called body shook terribly. Alarmed, Link moved forward but was succeeded by Birram, who wound comforting arms about his father, steadying him. 

         “Father, you are not well. It may be unwise to tax yourself to the benefit of others.” 

         “Nonsense,” he groused as the coughing subsided. His breathing was harsh but slowly regulating as he settled, and he gently urged his son away. “It is not meet to refuse a most welcomed guest such as this.” Ignoring the sour look this received him, he focused on Link once more. “Tell me, child, how goes your time unaccounted by us? Have you a wife and child to your care now?” 

         His mouth quirking slightly, Link shook his head. “I fear my absence has not been so productive. My travels took me to northern country where one’s shadow is often the only company present.” 

         There was short laughter. “And what fine companionship that was if you have returned to us intact. The northern border is not known for its kindliness.” 

         “That it is not, but I suspect fortune accompanied me in the form of your welcome prayers to the sound of it.” Link gave him a real smile now, though faint. “No family have I to speak of then, though Ijoll has happily informed that yours are seeking their fortune elsewhere.” 

         Enan attempted his own smile, though it tugged at scarred tissue and clearly pained him. Guilt clawed at Link’s insides to see it. “My sons look to reclaim the years stolen from them forthrightly, and I would not have them do otherwise. A father can only want of better fates for his own children.” 

         “We all want of better fates, but it is yours that tries my spirit.” Face somber, Link looked to Impa, gesturing her way. “Lady Impa has informed me of your sons’ entreaty to the crown. We have discussed to our advantage what options remain, and it seems our path remains limited to what is presently known.” 

         Impa entered their circle at unspoken invitation. “Have faith that is all is being done that can. Previously, I was unaware of Link’s personal involvement with your family, so his cooperation serves to improve our position. Even in our brief exchanges earlier, he revealed to us previously unknown qualities to these creatures that may aid in our pursuit of them.” 

         “I would not have you think my absence portends apathy,” Link cut in abruptly. “My cooperation is steadfast in light of the crown’s involvement.” 

         “I doubt it not. My children’s restoration has been kindness enough of its own,” Enan assured, and his face took on a seriousness of expression. “But child, know that I would to see you poorly working to my benefit. I have had time plenty to reflect on my own misdeeds, and I could not accord with the thought of accounting you among them. With the attention of such power as Sheikah possess, I cannot imagine it just to insist of your service still.” 

         Tensing, Link looked to him steadily. “You need not insist of what is freely offered.” Abruptly, he broke away and walked a few paces, his mind astir. “I have made to you a promise and intend on the keeping of it.” 

         Enan looked to Impa beseechingly. “Of what mind are you on the matter, Lady Impa? I wish not to exhaust the generosity of such aid, but my understanding is that the crown wishes this matter handled with discretion.” 

         Stroking her lip thoughtfully, Lady Impa glanced between them. “My preference is to limit the involvement of external participants, but Link’s previous service to Hyrule puts him in a unique position of insight where courtly matters are concerned.” 

         Ijoll threw a startled glance his way. “My impression of Sir Link was that his position was among Hyrule’s knights. Am I to understand otherwise?” 

         Impa looked to him inquisitively. “Link acted to the benefit of the crown for much of his youth, and that includes tenure in Hyrule’s military, though holding no office of distinction. His is the sort whose position has always invited curiosity but nothing untoward, and Her Highness, the queen, had tenderness of feeling for him in her child years.” 

         “More remarkable it is then to have his services rendered to us so generously,” Ijoll murmured and gave him a fond look. 

         “Or beggars question of his purpose,” Birram interrupted from his seated position. His eyes centered on Link, penetrating and hard, and pointed at him in accusation. “What manner of business is your aid that you would abandon it so hastily and leave it unfinished? Think you that my father’s offer of wealth untold will become sooner yours should the curse hasten his death?” 

         Link’s eyes widened in shock. The charge was enough to startle him to silence. By fortune, others were not so easily muted. 

         “You will hold your tongue, brother, for I will not suffer to hear you speak such vile unkindness further.” Anger cut a rigid line across Ijoll’s shoulders, his face and voice severe. 

         “All of you would bend the knee to his supposed charity with nary a thought critical to his intentions. It is not he who must suffer the sight of our father’s failing health while he treks the world uncaring to those who suffer the consequences of his gallivanting about.” 

         Flushed with anger, Ijoll sought to argue but was cut off by his father. “Silence! Both of you! I will not have such discord in my home nor rancor between siblings.” Flipping around to face his younger son, he said sharply, “You may excuse yourself from this gathering for the now and remain unseen until our guests leave. You have shamed me enough for this day.” 

         There looked to be argument, but something in his father’s face quelled his anger. His face abruptly fell, the anger bartered for sorrow. Bereft of further words, he left quickly, though his fury left a bitter and sulfurous taste to the air. Enan waited until he was gone before sighing deeply and returning to face them. 

         “Allow my apologies for my son’s outburst, Sir Link. He is young yet and full of misplaced anger. Your charity of spirit and action has far succeeded the obligations typical of one man to his fellows, and I would not abide you thinking we believe otherwise.” 

         Numbly, Link nodded, then folded his arms against the sudden chill that ran up his spine. He understood his own kindness would be necessary here, despite his ire. “He was the youngest of your children when you were cursed, and I would imagine thus the most susceptible to its ills. Those are hard memories to carry.” He quieted for a moment before adding, “I would rather his honesty, though I would have you understand well the baseless nature of his charge. Your great wealth is of no profound appeal to my sensibilities.” 

         “None who knew better would think so,” Ijoll hastily assured. 

         Impa had watched the proceedings with dispassion, unflappable in the face of the minor drama playing out before her. She turned her attention to Link, who stood silent as stone now, and would not give him pass of her scrutiny until he met her eyes. 

         “Have you question of me?” he asked, more sharply than intended. 

         “None that would profit from the asking,” she answered lightly. Addressing Enan, she spoke bluntly, “I suspect this day’s unexpected events has sapped your strength for the evening. I would suggest we retire for the night’s respite, and I will return on the morrow to speak further on these matters.” 

         Link studied him carefully and recognized abruptly that his color was off, the skin paling and limbs hung low with fatigue. Discomfort and regret twisted in his gut, and he turned aside to see Ijoll’s pained face in the same study of grief. 

         Tiredly, Enan agreed, limbs rustling in his mimicry of a nod. “I regret curtailing this reunion short, but you would have little use of me by the hour’s end.” He regarded Link kindly, wan face warming for him. “Do not allow this day’s unkind words trouble you further. In my home, young man, you are always welcome, and the sight of you is a joy unto itself.” 

         “I will be certain to enjoy your hospitality if you wish it,” Link answered agreeably. “Though I am obligated to my current host, a good lady who accompanied me here today, with the winter months approaching fast, I doubt she will have as extensive demands of me as she has these last few months.” He shot a look at Impa, then continued, “With Lady Impa’s blessing, I will tend as I have to your family previous.” 

         Tilting her head in neutral regard, she signaled to him to prepare his leave and turned to speak to Ijoll quietly. Irked at her presumption of command, he returned his focus to Enan. “Have faith, friend. I promise you that your travails have not gone forgotten by me.” 

         “Faith is all this old ruin of a man has to offer,” Enan said with a sad look, then motioned for his son. “Ijoll, please see our friends out respectfully whilst I retire.” 

         “As you wish, father.” Taking them both at hand, Ijoll led them to the stair while his father repaired to a corner, sunken into the darkness that gathered around him like a funerary veil. It was the last image Link had of him as they exited, and it stuck in his mind’s eye with insidious and acute detail. He felt the weight of the house’s grief pressing on him as they descended. 

         In the main rooms, Ijoll gathered himself before them, a wistful look on his face. “It pleases me not to have you see him so weakened and distraught, but as the years progress, his capabilities are becoming increasingly limited.” 

         Impa made a dismissive gesture, giving voice to their shared lenity. “Do not excuse what is no trespass. The curse’s wear on him is evident, even to eyes less knowing than ours.” 

         “It is your mercy for which I thank you, then,” he insisted. Then he sighed, “Now I must ask more of it - you must excuse Birram for his impropriety. With our brothers departed to the fortune of the city yon, care for father has fallen to us - a burdensome endeavor on its own but perhaps immeasurably more for one whose youth has been cruelly spent. Our father’s ill health contributes further unhappiness to his mind and makes his temper short.” 

         “A wounded animal strikes before it cowers,” Link responded plainly, “and a hurt child lashes out rather than abide its own suffering. I have known such things true and will pardon it, though it may better our circumstances if I limit my presence here until better progress is made. As much as your father may claim pleasure at my company, I serve to inspire acrimony, as well.” 

         “That may be wise,” Ijoll admitted, “but it is also to your discretion to exercise such rights. In the while, I must bid you the noon’s farewell and attend to my father.” Walking them both to the door, he opened it carefully, and the light it let in was nearly blinding in contrast. The juxtaposition seemed to pain him so, and Link wondered how long before Ijoll’s own sorrow turned bitter. It wore on him now to think of it, all that had passed in his absence, and all that would forward if he allowed it. 

         “The blessings of the three be with you, friends. May their mercy carry you forth to places far happier than this.”


	4. Cloak and Dagger

          Outside the home, there was silence. Link struggled in vain for words to account for this day and found himself gutted. Grief clung to this home like ivy, spoken in the rough and uncommon tongue of shadow magic, and he could feel its tendrils taking root under his own skin. Guilt had its place in him but tied up in the miserable tangle of threads that he called memory. It sat heavy in his stomach, a reminder of his profound superfluity in this era; his remorse was useless, a blunted sword not worth the keeping but which remained stubbornly fixed in his care.

          Impa gave him leave of quiet for several long moments before she began a slow but steady pace forward. Unbidden, he followed her, incapable of imagining what else to do with himself. It seemed ever more that his purpose grew muddied and obscured in this new Hyrule; he wondered vaguely, as he had countless times before, if it was only in Zelda’s desperate imaginings that he had one at all.

          Eventually, she broke their silence. “Last we met, you still had the softness of a lad about you, but you’ve fully the look of a man now.”

          He frowned slightly. “I was not so small when last you saw me.”

          “Aye, but time is a strange companion. It always seems to slip by even when present aside you.” Her features shifted minutely, the emotion withdrawing to some unseen quarter. “The years pass quickly when not accounted for.”

          Doubtless, she was comparing him to a memory years aged and no finer for it: the young soldier who had stood silent in full panoply to bear witness to the queen’s wedding. There he had been lost among a throng whose sight had swallowed him, a small and unremarkable boy of no great house and lesser name. It would have to be, for he had departed in haste soon after, excising himself from their world as cleanly as one could a benign tumor. But for him, the memory cut sharper, deeper; he recalled of her differently, in a place and time of extreme magic and divine grace, whose grand significance stood lost to the winds of ages gone. Then, too, she had looked upon him and remarked with a pride now absent of what the years had made of him.

          Shifting, he crossed his arms loosely over his chest as they walked; he needed to place trenches before she overran his defenses entirely. “Time has certainly changed you, as well. I had not imagined our crossing paths in Kakariko. I recall your presence uncommon here in earlier years.”

          A spark of amusement alighted her features in response. “In earlier years, the princess was a mischievous youth in want of more constant protection. Now she is queen and married several years thence, and it is her daughters that command the attention of a younger guardian than I.”

          That gave him such pause as to stifle his sharpened tongue. Swallowing hard, he nodded curtly. “The years have indeed passed swiftly if the royal family has achieved plurality in my absence.”

           “Your travels have been distant indeed if you had no word of the twins’ birth. The blessing of daughters holds great auspice within our borders.” She looked at him strangely, her gaze curious and frank. “The north holdings are an uncanny place. It is uncommon to hear of those traveling there willingly. The weather is hostile and frigid, the roads treacherous, and many of the residents are known to be unwelcoming.”

          Link sensed an interrogation at hand and knew the path ahead laced with traps. “The mountains keep their secrets, and they have mine. Out of respects for my hosts there, you will forgive my discretion, but know that my journeying there was unavoidable. I could not remain in Hyrule when called to tasks beyond its reach.”

          “Discretion is an agreeable request, but one would think Hyrule vast enough to encompass responsibility enough for your tastes. The peace here is recent enough to be considered hard won. Its appreciation does not sit idly in the minds of elders.”

          Censure in her tone - he could hear it clearly, like the ringing of heavy bells, but she would not see him flinch. That his absence did not bear such warm regard was evident in her meaning, but such disclosures had long ceased to disquiet him. In this era, his disappointments were myriad and taxing, and he would worry them not like a dog to bone’s marrow.

          “What demands the world makes of us cares little for borders. One prays the blessings of gods are not so confined to Hyrule’s royal abundance,” he remarked, then turned from her scrutiny, gesturing meaningfully to the home of the cursed.

          “One would indeed hope, though often they cannot extend even that far.” She glanced at him meaningfully, her tone somber. “I would not have you think the queen so privileged to be spared the essential tragedies of living. Two girls, a blessing, yes, but one little prince lost early. The world’s demands are not so confined to you and yours, either.”

          Pausing in step, Link stilled, her meaning evident. “It was not my intent to suggest it so,” he said quietly. “The queen’s grief brings me no satisfaction.”

          Now, she halted and turned to face him. “Doubtless, you are genuine in your intentions, but your lack of foreknowledge of these happenings is troubling. What called you beyond our borders so abruptly is of great interest to me. Your dealings with the Veilkh are a curiosity of their own, but in light of your role in thwarting the Gerudo king’s ambitions, it speaks to a significance of character you’ve yet to illuminate to my satisfaction.”

          He stiffened in surprise, his color rising in anxious anger. “What questions you have of my character is unnecessary. To Hyrule or the queen, I have never intended ill.”

          “That much is evident, but our intentions are not always partnered with success. I wonder only if your obligations elsewhere have consequence beyond even your own awareness.”

          The fury and indignation rose in him so swiftly it stole his breath. It thrashed and hissed with vengeful wrath, jaws snapping hungrily, in want of channel and release. Against its force, he could only clench his fists and set his jaw. She could not know, he was aware, not her or anybody else, the impossible secret that he kept always clenched tightly in his breast. But the insult! The audacity! Of sacrifice and devotion, he could teach even a Sheikah a thing or two but for the silence demanded of him, the pit of madness that lie before him should he venture forth and brave the beasts that lay snarling behind darkened gates.

          “Such regards are unnecessary,” he ground out, “and I am not predisposed to entertaining further sentiments otherwise.”

          Even in her ignorance, there was a knowing - he could see it. She had struck a nerve and would pursue her wounded prey farther if he let her. He wished abruptly for intervention, to be anywhere else but in this moment; the day had drained him of reserves beyond the expected taxing, and he was uncertain of his capability to rally what strength was necessary to parry her next strike. What she would take of him, he could not know, but he knew himself incapable of sparing it.

          From the crooked angle of her lips, he could see her readying it, smug and penetrating in its efforts. Every muscle in him tensed for the blow, but for once, his unspoken prayers fell not on deaf and apathetic ears. He heard his name called at close distance and turned to see Malon waving to him from across the square. She approached at haste, her spirits fine and bearing merry; he assumed her business well and took her sly humor in good stead as she sidled up beside him with smile at hand. Her presence gave their assembly an immediate buoyancy, the lightness of a bird at wing. Tension unwound from him in minute measure, muscles loosening slightly, glad of her company.

          “I’d just taken to the looking for you, and here you’re to be found with company besides!” Turning to Impa, she put on a pretty and genial face. “There ain’t knowing between us, but that’s remedied easily enough if Link allows it.” Since her arms were busied, she bumped her hip into his teasingly, ignoring the long-suffering look he sent her way.

          He looked to Impa but knew immediately from her expression that he would brook no quarter with her. She had unstrung the arrow from her bow, the violence of the moment withdrawn, but she was not to be underestimated, even as her eyes glittered with humor endowed by Malon’s lively presence. She could be a charming thing indeed when tried, he admitted. Perhaps her grandfather’s magic was closer at hand than imagined.

          Resigned, he gestured airily in her direction, “Lady Impa, undoubtedly you are familiar with Lon Lon Ranch. This is Miss Malon, its current owner and administrator. I am attending to her protection in her travels.” Turning his attention to Malon, he continued, “Lady Impa is a representative of the crown here on errand. She is the former caretaker of the queen, though her service to the royal family continues thence.”

          Blushing and round-eyed, Malon gave short curtsy, as much as her burdens allowed. Her blithe pleasantries had given way to an exacting sense of propriety. “It’s a right honor to meet you, Lady Impa. Suffice to say, I wasn’t much in the way of expecting such noble company when I came calling.”

          Impa granted her a short smile, tinged with the bittersweetness of hard knowledge. “A pleasure to meet the daughter of Talon. My condolences to his passing, child. His faithful service to the castle has not been overlooked in these years. It is relief to know his work continues in fine stead at your hand.”

          Nodding quickly, Malon pressed on, “The castle needn’t concern itself ever with the failing of Lon Lon Ranch. My father raised hisself a good daughter with a mind to the work of things, and I’ve the blessing of good help, as it is.”

          “I’ve heard no such concerns voiced among the courtiers, but it is a reassurance to hear it from the source.”

          Anxiety made a rigid cut of her stance; Link allowed the feeblest of touches between them, the brush of his hand at her side, so light as to be imagined. Despite his slight effort, its intent prevailed admirably, her muscles unfixing from their hard paralysis. She looked to him kindly with a sidelong eye, but no further did she carry their indecorum, neither fastening herself to his side nor provoking less anemic comforts from him. It seemed Impa’s presence provided a healthy moderator toward her more immodest amities, though by the bemused look on her countenance, he doubted the Sheikah was much fooled.

          With new confidence, Malon smiled warmly. “Then our meeting is a right boon for us both, Lady Impa. It’s no small privilege to provide for the royal family of Hyrule.”

          “It is our blessing that is at hand if Hyrule has such kind and hardy young women as yourself at its service, child.” Letting her gaze flit over the goods in her arms, she then turned its red heat on him. “I presume Link is your companion this day in travels and yonder. He has been reticent on most matters with me but for the familiarity he shares with you.”

          Malon stifled a laugh but shared with Impa a sly grin, full of happy daggers aimed at his person. “An honest question if he even intends as much, if you gather my meaning, my lady. I’d trade as much words with the livestock as with him on a good day. Weren’t for his space at my table, I’d count him a ghost in my keeping - but a hardy and useful one for that!”

          Impa smiled. Affection colored her features, resolving the hard flintiness of her eyes into something warmer and nearly soft, firelight on a cold evening. Link marveled at the transformation and envied the ease at which Malon provoked such tenderness from strangers. He imagined it had cushioned her stumbles through life fairly well, though he knew also that all magic had limits. His own had dwindled long ago, if ever he had it.

          “A blessing, then, for each of you in turn. It has been years long now since our swordsman left Hyrule.” With that, Impa leveled a gaze on him, severe and piercing. “Not always does one’s place remain in the returning. A kindness it should be counted then, to find any.”

          Malon turned to him, still in good humor, but his own had fled. Something twisted in his insides at Impa’s meaning, a miserable helix of dread and shame; he stilled, immobilized by the certainty of his trespasses and their recollection. A muscle in his jaw twitched, the only outward sign of his displeasure. She had laid her snares well, as Sheikah tend, and she struck her blow cleanly in the moments of his idling, a blade that pierced even the protective armor of company. The accusation laid bare beneath the surface of her words, and he dared not respond, lest he provoke the secrets that lay between them, coiled like serpents ever ready to strike. _She would not see him flinch_ , was the last and ferocious thought that finally returned him to animation.

          Besides him, Malon smile faltered, sensing minutely the shift in his demeanor, but wisely held herself tacit for the present. He knew her curiosity would not stay itself indefinitely, and he moved swiftly to forestall the inevitable, stepping to relieve her arms of their burden. When he met Impa’s eyes again, his gaze was steady, his voice strong.

          “The pleasure of your company is always well received, Lady Impa, but by my count, the daylight at hand is waning.” He gestured to the mountainous distance where the sun was reclining, a copper discus shining hotly bright. “To Miss Malon, I have promised safe passage through Hyrule’s wilder quarter, and my intent is to fulfill that vow accordingly. With your leave, we will be making ours.”

          “Allow me then to delay you no longer. More tasks await me before I return to Hyrule Castle, but a privilege now to be received as gladly as I know the queen will the news of your return. We have much to discuss given the revelation of our encounter today, and I would imagine knowledge of your good welfare will prove a tremendous boon to her spirits.”

          Composed serenely, Impa inclined her head respectfully, her features betraying none of the hidden daggers he knew remained. She was, as all Sheikah were, masters of discreet violence: when she drew blood, it flowed from wounds unseen and impossible to heal. His fingers itched, longing for a sword or even a shield, sturdy and iron, even knowing them ill-purposed to protect him from the worst of her arsenal. Instead, he drew himself straight, steadied by the knowledge that retreat would be costlier, and gave light respects with a bowed head.

          “In all matters, I wish Her Highness only warmest regards. I would not suffer her displeasure or sorrow further at my making.” Raising his head, he met her gaze headlong. “If to your notion my return presages such joyous reception, then account of me no obstacle to the telling.”

          The smile that graced Impa’s features was thin and trenchant, an implicit acknowledgment that while he stood wounded, he would not be felled so easy. She held his eyes a moment longer before ceding the point and turning to acknowledge Malon.

          “I will take our swordsman’s regards as my opportunity to withdraw. I wish you safe and good travel, Miss Malon. May Farore’s hand guide you both well.” With a gentle salute, she then turned and took her leave with a deft and impossible grace, blending seamlessly into the scenery as any natural shadow. Link watched her go dispassionately, allowing no insight to his mind’s matter.

          Malon held her peace until Impa was at sensible distance before rounding on him, hard and thorny questions on her tongue. Forestalling her words, he held up a hand in gentle deterrent.

          “If you seek answers, hold them fast until we have made leave of this place. This village is full of whispers and eyes and ears to inspire their telling. Silence will be our better companion for the now.”

          Chastened, she nodded with wide eyes and hurried to his side, affecting a purposed demeanor to match his as they made their exit from the village. Honoring his request, she spared few words beyond telling him of her preparations to leave. At the bottom of the stone stairs, Jarrus stood awaiting him, the horses at the ready by her asking.

          “Are you certain to be leaving us so soon, Miss Malon? The day is not so late to steal you away at this hour.”

          Laughing, she took the reins at hand. “I’m ‘fraid so, Jarrus. I’ve company to keep me to task and a mind to follow him. The horses tend better in the daylight hours as it is.”

          “The day ends sadder for your leaving, but I would not wish your safety compromised to see your stay. As you requested, the horses have been well kept and prepared for departure.”

          “You’re the best sort, if you’ll allow me the saying of it.” She gave him a grin, viciously pretty and endearing. “I’ll be letting that brother of yours suffer a minding about his regards of you when I see him.”

          “Your words fall wasted on deaf ears, my lady.”

          Their banter filled the air with warmth and humor, but Link had no want of it. Purposed and with thoughts ponderous, he took to the horses, taking a firm hold of the harness and awaiting her leave. In short time, he imagined Malon would have her fill of him with her questions, and he was eager to face the beast forthwith then allow it time to gather strength. He did not turn to face her until their voices drew closer to him, and there he found himself observed with sour disapproval under Jarrus’ sharp eye. Unimpressed, he leveled him a look of total indifference until the other man quailed and set his mind to Malon.

          “A helping hand, my lady?”

          “A fine notion that is,” she said happily and took the chivalrous gesture with appreciative manner. Settled at once, she looked to him with a fond eye. “Take care of yourself now. Wouldn’t do me no happiness to see you done badly.”

          “Have no concerns for me. Hyrule cares for its own, and I take your word of it that you are in equally good hands. The blessings of the goddess be with you.”

          With a final wave, Malon let off, and Link carefully guided them forward until they had crossed the bridge into the threshold of Hyrule field. There, he paused long enough to climb up and seat himself beside her, before she motioned the horses forward. The sun sat late in the noon sky now, but they would have good light for some hours yet. He tasked himself to a sharp watch despite the comfort of this knowledge.

          Malon gave him stay of her inquisition for the measure of a good hour, but she spent the time brimming with nervous and dissatisfied energy, like the constant ticking of a grand clock approaching the nigh hour. It served to instill a guardedness in him, which functioned well enough in its evidence to soften her initial blow.

          “A strange sort of a friend you have in Lady Impa,” she said finally, breaking their silence cleanly.

          “Friend is a generous use of the term. Lady Impa is more acquaintance than anything, though one of great consequence given her proximity to the crown. My association with the royal family in the past has required of our cooperation though no further familiarity than that. Our encounter was entirely incidental today. I would count it uncommon for our paths to cross so again without intent.”

          “She seemed awful keen on your returning here is all. Ain’t much you’ve said about your traveling, and it’s not my business none to press you on it, but she seems to trouble you some on the matter.”

          Glancing at her, Link considered his next words carefully. “For several years, I was of exclusive service to the crown. I imagine some presumed my service would continue in that vein indefinitely and were displeased substantially by my leave of it.” He turned to her, a faint and bitter smile on his face. “It would not be much unsound in stating that our parting terms were unpleasant.”

           Silent for a moment, Malon looked to the road thoughtfully. “I’d known you a swordsman for a long time, but I ain’t have knowing much of where you learned it. Even when we were children, you’d been the quiet sort, and I’d never thought much of it. Assumed it was just the way of you, but as I got older, it seemed sense more common to think you a soldier’s boy or the like.”

          He nodded tersely, poised to disrupt her line of thinking before it inevitably drew water from a fathomless well, but was silenced by the consternation he saw writ in her features. She looked at him briefly, gauging, then continued bravely, “That’s to yours whether it’s for the sharing. But I admit a curious feeling for the rest of it. By my reckoning, Lady Impa seemed to imply the queen had an affection for you. That’s more to the telling than just a soldier’s piece.”

          “That it is,” he allowed, “but neither is it so remarkable a story, either. My acquaintance with her came to pass around the time of the Gerudo king’s treachery. What role I played in thwarting him, I doubt she could speak to, but the events held enough significance in their concurrent passing that it afforded her notice.”

          “Pardon my saying, but the favor of a queen strikes me as no small having.”

          “You would be disappointed then in its lacking. Impa would inflate its significance because she has never known otherwise.” Pausing for a moment, he crossed his arms, looking to the distance. “I suppose there happened a bond between us in younger years but nothing that exceeded the limits of propriety. That her favor of me existed at all is a like culprit for rumors is more my suspicion. Consequently, my interactions with her are brief and few, and I have not set eyes on her since her marriage years before.”

          Silence filled the space after as Malon digested his words. Whilst distracted, a frown had stolen the humor from her face like a careless thief. It disheartened him to think his sorrows should take root in her own heart’s concern.

          “Take care not to trouble yourself so over any lost regard on my part. I account of myself not by the opinion of high courts,” he assured her.

          Turning slightly toward him, she smiled at him gently. “I ain’t one to mistake you for the genteel sort, but I hear the sadness of the leaving in you. I suspect you were fond of the princess yourself from the telling of it.”

          Inspiring a fast breath, he moved to counter but was quelled by a furtive look she sent his way. “Don’t be fretting yourself now. I ain’t meaning nothing scandal-like ‘bout it, but it sounds to me there was friendliness between y’all that’s gone now that she’s a woman wed. It’s the sad look of things to me, anyhow.” 

          Setting his jaw, he answered simply, “Friendliness I will accord, but any tenderness of feeling is otherwise speculation. As it stands, what need of me they imagined or presumed required has long since passed and the better of it is my notion.”

          “I ain’t speculating none,” she responded carefully, “It’s just the way of friendships between men and women. Rich folk got their particulars about associating outside marriage ‘specially. Can’t imagine it was ever a reflection to you and yours.”

          Quieting, she spared him further scrutiny by returning her gaze to the distance. After a moment in which she let the silence metastasize between them, she spoke again thoughtfully, “A sad sort to be married so young as the queen.”

          “It is not so uncommon among the nobility, as I understand it. Being queen, her sensibilities may be relieved by the privilege of her person. Others are not so fortunate to have such respite.”

          “Still,” she murmured, “barely more woman than girl and knowing grief in childbed already.” Malon shook her head, her voice tinged with sorrow. “Ain’t seem right by my reckoning, but it’s the way of things, I suppose.”

          Link swallowed thickly, distrusting his voice for a moment; he had not the words to explain his knowing of grief, the relentless way in which sought him out and all that he had known. It seemed to him an enemy that brooked no quarter, leaving no stone unturned in its pursuit. In all his years, neither magic nor metal had proved an effective protection from it - if anything, it served to invite it. That it had found Zelda even severed from the world of her desolate failures was of a consequence he could not articulate properly, though he knew it keen to penetrate his own defenses should he allow it.

          “Duty is often at the expense of the self,” he answered finally. “We forgo personal satisfactions in the tasking of it. A princess understands that.”

          “It sounds to me that you do, too,” she said quietly.

          It was a fell blow, more striking for its inexpert origin. The sting of it was bitter, and he turned from her to examine a distance he longed for, far away from the vicious truth of her words. She could not know the half of it, yet her insight was keen and biting - and worse was his inkling that she knew it. It made want of violence in him, and he suppressed its power with effort. He would not have her bear the lash of a brutal tongue by cost of her ignorance. She acted from nothing and knew less; the unhappiness was not hers to suffer.

          "It matters not,” he said firmly, returning his attentions to her with a hard look and harder tone. “Our motion is forward always - to look to the past and seek open doors where all are closed is to beggar madness, and I would not suffer you to think me a madman.”

          Subdued, she nodded, grown quiet at his unspoken command for peace. He felt the knife of his unkindness acutely but stifled the instinct to comfort. What questions she would be made to ask if allowed further license would grant her no shortage of ills and more for his own sorry lot. The past was a ruinous scavenger if provided opportunity, and it would not feed of the marrow from his bones while he breathed. 

          Instead, he placed a hand over hers briefly, engaging her attention and amity, before pointing to the distance. “Of further concern is my task to protect you. Troubling ourselves with heavier matters will only detain us from necessary action when required. This I can do for you, and I shall, but allow me the privilege of your easy companionship for the while.”

          Her gaze lingered where their hands touched before she acknowledged him with quiet assent, expending her mind and energy now to the journey remaining. To his word, he did best to remain true, but the events of the day roiled in his mind beneath the surface of his calm focus. Impa carried with her the disquiet of memory, and she had laid its burden heavily at his feet, a corpse unearthed and weighty. In its decay, he could see all that had come to pass, its potential lost with the fading of history, and knew with melancholic and bitter certainty that his own unnecessary dust would one day settle in the earth unremembered.

          Time now stood solidified in its passing, a marbled wall through which he could no longer pass. There would be no song to coax its motion retrograde, no spinning of great clocks and opening of grand doors; they stood closed behind him now, their futures erased from his potentiality, and he felt the weight of the darkness they left behind. All this, he knew in moments, and knew too the finality of his actions were finally laid bare to see, and certainly to Impa, whose great and omniscient eye had kept to him all these years passing. She would not forget their words this day, nor his absence these long years, and she would be certain to remind the princess of it as well in their inevitable discussions.

          A reckoning had come his way, and it said to him with unflinching voice that he was to be found lacking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very nasty set of back to back viruses can be blamed for these late updates, but on the bright side, I have delivered you two updates for the price of one! Hopefully, the next will be out in a more timely manner. On a side note, following this chapter, the content will move into more adult material, so going forward, there will be individual warnings for NSFW content at the top of the page.


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